


But We'll Always Have Paris

by okydoky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:36:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okydoky/pseuds/okydoky
Summary: Twenty years ago, Harry and Draco had a secret that they never planned to reveal. But a trip to Paris makes Harry reminisce about the old days and what could have been…





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to lordes, emansil_08 and thisgirl_is for looking at this, beta-ing this and holding my hand when I got stuck (every five minutes). 

But We'll Always Have Paris

: :

4th June, 2024

This holiday wasn't the first time Harry had been to Paris, contrary to what nearly everyone thought. 

Once, over twenty years ago, he came to Paris with his first love. His secret love. The holiday had been amazing to say the least, filled with amazing sex and amazing food all against the back drop of a beautiful city. But that was a long time ago, and long over. Harry hadn't done anymore than exchange some awkward greetings with him in all that time.

The he had been Draco Malfoy and even now, Harry could look back and see that the relationship had been ill-fated. 

"Oi, Dad!"

Harry snapped out of his daze. This time, Harry had bought his kids to Paris. He'd been asked to present a paper on the changes that he'd made to the Auror Department when he'd taken over. Yesterday, that was been exactly what he'd done. His paper had gone down well, the crowd had clapped, and his children had terrorised the streets of Paris.

Harry turned to James, who towered above him by a couple of inches. At sixteen, Harry wasn't too sure why James had agreed to come on the trip. Well, the same could be said about any of them actually -- they normally had to be dragged kicking and screaming on family holidays. It had been years since they'd had a holiday where everyone had wanted to come along. Although this was the first since the divorce nearly a year ago. They probably thought he'd be lonely or something, but think about that was likely to depress him slightly.

"I though you wanted to go," Lily tutted as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Yeah, sorry," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. He pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning on. "I'm definitely the one who's been faffing with their hair for the last twenty minutes while you lot stood out here waiting."

"Dad, no one would ever mistake you for someone that's been doing their hair for twenty minutes," Lily said. "Those two either." She jerked her head at Al and James, who stood behind her, yawning. Harry suspected they'd been napping. They were always napping.

"All right, all right," Harry said, as James frowned at Lily. Wind him up and he would be going for ages. Harry did doubt whether he'd brushed his hair that week, James looked like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Al asked. He hung back to talk to Harry as James charged down the corridor of their hotel, and Lily ran after him, squealing about her stolen scarf. Harry noticed it tied around his head like a bandana.

"I thought we'd go for a walk through the city centre and then come back and have dinner, find a cafe or something. What do you think?"

Al nodded. "Sounds good to me. You seem to know your way round quite well. You've been before, haven't you?" he asked.

"Good sense of direction," Harry muttered. Christ it had been twenty years since he'd been here, why did he still remember how to get to the Eiffel Tower from Marais? Why had he chosen a hotel only around the corner from the one he and Draco had stayed in? No, he knew the answer to that. 

"Dad..." Al snorted. "Don't bother lying," he lowered his voice, "I won't say anything to mum. Or them."

"I came here once, a long time ago," he admitted. 

"With someone else?"

"It was before your mum and I were married, Al, don't start thinking anything, all right?" Even if what Al thought was probably true. That Harry had cheated on Ginny all those years ago and was still lying about it now. 

"You had a life before mum," Al said with a shrug. "Come on, you out of all people can say that, with all the stuff that happened to you before you were my age."

"Yeah, you're right. Course."

"Who was it?" Al asked slyly.

"Al..."

"Oh come on, I won't tell," Al cajoled  
.  
"No, it's not right," Harry protested. 

Al huffed, but nodded. "Did you stay here?"

Harry shook his head. "Not in this hotel, no."

"Near here, then."

Harry was silent. Why did his son have to be an evil genius? It had to be the one of his kids that Sorted Slytherin that figured it out, too. Harry had almost had a heart attack when Al sent notice of his Sorting, followed by another owl from James, that Harry could practically hear the cackle from. He thought Draco's son was sure to have been Slytherin, too. But no, Harry eventually deduced he was a Ravenclaw, and Harry went to sleep that night slightly easier.

"Right," Al laughed. "Cool. Don't worry. Seriously."

"Thanks, Al."

They carried on walking, 'til they could see James and Lily in the lobby. Somehow, Lily had got her scarf back, and Harry could guess what had happened by seeing James rubbing his arm in several places. The girl had quite a smack on her when she wanted to. 

"Where we off to?" James yelled.

Harry winced. Next time they would camp, far far away from other people that James couldn't deafen.

"Go the same way as we went yesterday," Harry said. 

James took off at once, wandering out of the hotel, Lily closely on his heels. He and Al walked for a time, following James and Lily, as they passed the Arc de Triomphe, and James's favourite part of the holiday so far, the Headless Accordion Player, and not much further down the road, the French mime. His son was such a cliché. He could almost image Draco shaking his head. He'd done the same to Harry all those years ago.

"Do you regret it?" Al asked.

"Regret what?" Harry asked, as his blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

"Not being with whoever you came to France with. Being with mum and having us."

Harry sighed. "I do not regret a day of you, James or Lily. I wouldn't change it for anything. You believe me, yeah?"

Al looked at him carefully. Harry could see himself reflected in his son's glasses, and in his face as well.

"I do. But... mum?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "Last year, before the divorce, before all that, we were happy, and I didn't regret it. Now, after it's over? I don't know. I do wonder how it would have been, but then I wouldn't have you lot, so... six of one and half a dozen of the other, you know?"

"Yeah," Al said quietly. "I get it."

"Good. P-please don't say anything to James or Lil. They might not, and there's nothing to be done or said about any of it any more."

"Course," Al said. He seemed to sense that Harry wanted - no needed - a minute to himself, as he began to speed up. "I'm going to catch 'em up."

"Sure," Harry said, and watched as Al sprinted down the road, to where James was mimicking at the mime, making Lily laugh hysterically. It always amazed him how much his cool, calm and collected teenagers became such kids when they were together. Al jumped on James's back and they both toppled to the floor.

A few minutes later, James was still rubbing his knees as they decided to go and sit down for a cup of coffee, at Lily's request. Harry thought it was cute that she felt sophisticated in her French scarf and drinking coffee even though she didn't really like it.

As the kids didn't really know their way around, Harry didn't feel too guilty making them back up on themselves so they could go to the cafe that he and Draco had adopted all those years ago. 

The talk with Al had made him even more nostalgic than ever.

"Can we sit outside?" James asked.

Harry shrugged. "If you want." They sat down at one of the tables. Lily picked up the menu, perusing the drinks immediately. Harry wondered what kind of concoction she would ask for this time.

Behind them, a waiter came over. He looked oddly familiar, and was probably about Harry's age... maybe a bit older.

Harry recited their orders, two cokes for Al and James, a latte for him and a mocha low-fat frappuchino with whipped cream for Lily. 

The waited raised an eyebrow, but disappeared immediately to make their drinks.

"This is nice," Al said warily. 

"Thanks," Harry said slowly, eyeing his son suspiciously. He was always up to something. "We'll go into the centre in a bit."

James shrugged. "Don't have to. We went yesterday, didn't we? Bet there's plenty of places to go around here if you fancy it, dad."

Harry smiled. "We could take a walk," he agreed. "Find some new places, not just the obvious ones?"

Lily sighed.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I really wanted a picture of me standing next to the Eiffel Tower, but you know, so I was as tall as it."

Harry laughed. "You mean from a distance?"

"Yeah..."

"We might find somewhere around here with a place to take a picture," Harry said. "And, I suppose we may find our way over there, too."

Lily visibly brightened up, and lit up further when her drink was placed down on the table. It looked hideously sugary and creamy, Harry was certain the 'low-fat' part of her order had been negated by the order of whipped cream on top.

They sat and drank their drinks, James guzzling his down like he always did. Harry sipped at his drink. He would have sworn the coffee was as good as it was twenty years ago. In fact, he would swear that the waiter was the same bloke, too. Maybe he owned it now, Harry doubted that many people worked in cafes for their entire adult lives, but he could be wrong. He probably was. 

As ever, the kids were done with their drinks a lot earlier than Harry was. It had always annoyed Ginny horrendously. James began to tap a spoon against the table, Lily was chipping the paint from her nails, and even Al was tapping his foot.

He dug in his pocket, producing a couple of francs. All of their faces lit up.

"Ice cream shop's over there. Go and get one. I want a honey comb one," he said.

Al shot him a look. Harry inwardly winced. He shouldn't be so specific about places he'd 'never' been. Thankfully, James and Lily were squabbling over the cash. "Or vanilla," Harry added lamely.

He watched as they trotted off across the road. He knew he shouldn't be thankful of the long queue in the shop, but he was. Two men squeezed past Harry's chair in order to sit down. They huddled around the menu, hands clasped under the table. They couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Harry bit his lip, and pulled out a pad of paper from the bag Lily had left on the table. He decided to ignore the flowers on the border, and the 'Lily <3 greg 4eva' scribbled across the front. god, his kids were growing up too fast. the pen had a feather on the end, resembling a quill.

Dear Draco, he wrote. I'm sat in our café in Paris. There's a couple sitting next to me, and they remind me of us. How we used to be, at any rate. I'm fairly sure the waiter is the same one that used to tease us all those years ago. I miss you. Do you still think of me?

Harry.

There were envelopes in Lily's bag as well. He folded the letter and placed it in the envelope, scribbling D. Malfoy on the front, then Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England underneath. It stood, propped up against the salt and pepper shakers. It taunted him. A reminder of what he had lost. And it had been his fault. 

The kids came bounding back over, ice creams in hand Harry's sat precariously with James. 

"Just hold it for a minute, mate, I'll just pay."

He walked through, into the café to stand at the counter. The place looked the same. He needed to get out of here. He ached.

Outside, Lily picked up the letter. "What do you think it is?" she asked, looking at it curiously. "Why's he writing to Scorpius's dad?"

James shrugged. He was too busy licking around the ice creams to stop them dripping on his hands. It was quite a task.

"Al?" she said.

"Oh ..." Al glanced back inside, to where his dad was talking to the waiter. "Post it," he said.

Lily rummaged through her bag. "I've only got one stamp left, and I need to write a postcard for Nan!"

"I'll buy you another, just do it. There's a post box there, look," Al hurried, pointing down the road. He took her strawberry cone from her.

"Fine," she said, and ran down the street. When she got back, Al cornered her in the street.

"Don't tell dad we posted it," he said, trying to sound vaguely threatening.

"Why?" Lily asked. "Am I going to get in trouble?"

"No, just..." he thrust the cone at her, and she took it, licking the pink cream from her fingers. "Please Lil?"

She squinted at him. "What's in it for me?"

"Dad's happiness?"

She shook her head.

"Fine! You can have the cloak for a month, but don't tell him we've got that either!"

"Done."

They shook hands just as Harry caught them up, James trailing behind.

"All right?" Harry asked. 

Lily linked her arm with Harry's. "Brilliant, Dad, just brill."

"Good," Harry said, and they walked off down the street. The letter didn't cross his mind again.

: :

2nd May, 1999

"You've got to come, Harry," Hermione implored as she stood in front of him, straightening his tie. She frowned at the wonky knot which Harry had managed to form before tutting and starting again. Apparently a few months out of school was enough time for Harry to forget how to tie a proper knot.

"I really don't."

Hermione sighed. "We've been through this. It's been a year to the day -- "

"I am quite aware of what has happened in my life," Harry interrupted. "Especially one year ago today. What I don't quite understand is why anybody wants to celebrate the fact that I killed someone, loads of people died and Hogwarts got trashed."

"You know that's not what we're celebrating." Hermione pulled his tie particularly hard, and Harry knew he had very little choice but to go to the First Anniversary Ministry Ball to celebrate the end of the war. "You look very dashing."

Harry snorted, looking down at the suit which Hermione had forced him into. It was a simple black three piece suit with a purple tie. Purple as it wasn't associated with any house and Harry apparently couldn't align himself with any one. Hermione's reasoning, not his. Harry didn't care. A tie was a tie and colours were colours. He didn't look too awful, but he felt like a right pillock. 

"You look ... lovely," Harry said awkwardly. 

Hermione smiled and began to smooth down non-existent wrinkles in his sleeves. Harry was going to have to try and compliment her more if it would stop her shouting at him. But she really did look lovely. She was dressed in a long, pale pink dress that accentuated curves Harry often forgot that Hermione possessed. Plus, it looked like she'd put the same potion in her hair which had made it look so shiny at the Yule Ball. 

The door to Harry's bedroom opened, and Ron burst through. 

"Oi, Potter, mitts off," Ron said.

Harry laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "She's got her hands on me, mate, sorry."

"Who's she, the cat's mother?" Hermione asked tartly. She let Harry go and cornered Ron. 

"What cat?" Ron asked as he bent his head and kissed her cheek wetly. 

"Make up, Ron!" she sighed, wiping his kiss from her face. She tried to straighten his tie as well and rubbed a smudge of something dark from his chin.

Harry turned away to look in the mirror as Ron managed to kiss Hermione properly without a complaint. There was very little Harry wanted more than to Apparate away right now and get rather pissed in a pub full of old men far, far away from here. He'd settle for reading a speech Hermione had written for him and then getting wasted on champagne. 

"What time are we supposed to be there?" Harry asked, monotone. He was saving his enthusiasm for later in the evening when he was faced with people he needed to fake it with. In the mirror, Harry saw Hermione and Ron retreat from their kiss, cheeks slightly pink and he turned back. Even Harry, in his dreadful mood, couldn't quite hide a smile at their obvious happiness.

Ron cast a Tempus charm quickly which announced that the time was quarter to seven.

"Oh!" Hermione started. "I didn't realize it was so late! We need to be there in fifteen minutes. I haven't fetched my bag or checked my make-up and where did you put my shoes, Harry?"

"Unless Kreacher has eaten them, they'll be at the front door," Harry said, and Hermione flew from the room.

"Eaten them?" Ron asked.

"Caught him with a loafer the other day," Harry said grimly. "Wasn't pretty."

"Oh," Ron said. "Oh. No, course not."

"Shall we go and find Hermione then? I'll grab her shoes and we can get this over with."

Ron pulled at his shirt collar. "Mate, I have no idea how Muggles wear these all the time."

Harry had a vision of his Uncle Vernon waddling out of the door every morning, slightly resembling a sausage as he left for work.

"No, me either."

The two of them left Harry's bedroom and found Hermione, who was now Harry's height after she'd forced her feet into a sparkling pair of high heels that Harry could see Ron carrying by the end of the night. Ron still towered above them both, much to Harry's chagrin. 

"Very er, nice," Harry pronounced as Hermione stared at them beseechingly. She smiled and started waving her handbag at them as she checked if they were all ready. Finally, they were up to Hermione's standards, and they Apparated to the front of the Ministry of Magic. 

Heading in through the telephone box, each of them were given the obligatory name badges. Harry's read 'Harry Potter -- The Man Who Lived'. With a huff and a mutter about the dress of her fabric, Hermione pulled her wand from the depths of her bag and attached all three of their badges to their clothes. Harry pulled the badge away and it pinged back into place but left no trace.

Around them, the Ministry had been transformed. Every inch of the ceiling was covered in tiny golden lights which Harry suspected were actually fairies. The walls were lined with what looked like endless miles of silk or muslin or satin. Harry was fairly impressed, and seeing the expense and effort to which the Ministry had gone to, began to look forward to the buffet later on. 

He, Hermione and Ron walked through to the main ballroom, stopping every few minutes to greet people. Kingsley Shacklebolt stopped Harry for a while, shaking his hand heartily and began to talk to Harry about the Auror training program he would be beginning that September, depending on his NEWT results from his re-sat Seventh Year. To his left he could see Hermione talking to Professor McGonagall, and Ron with his mum and dad. Beyond that, Neville stood with Luna on his arm, and Draco Malfoy lurked in the background with his mother, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Harry looked away. Draco Malfoy was none of his concern anymore. 

"Hi, Harry." There was a hand slid onto Harry's forearm. It had to be Ginny. Shacklebolt nodded at him and moved on to talk to someone else.

Harry turned, bending slightly to lay a kiss onto Ginny's lip gloss covered lips. 

"Hey, you," he said.

"You don't scrub up half bad, do you?" she asked, her eyes sparkling. 

"Could say the same about you," he teased. 

She whacked him on the arm, and Harry winced, like he knew he should, rubbing the spot. It hadn't hurt.

"Sorry, sorry," Harry said. "You look... beautiful."

Ginny smiled, a wide smile which brightened up her face immeasurably. "That's a bit more like it."

"Good. Don't suppose you know where we can get a drink?" 

Ginny pointed across the room, past the crowds of people. 

Harry sighed. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"It's going to be good," Ginny said, slightly crossly. "Don't ruin tonight, Harry, I'm really looking forward to it. And you haven't even mentioned my new dress." She let go of his arm, and Harry's heart sank. He was in trouble already, but Ginny knew his reasons for not wanting to be at the ball tonight as well. She could be a bit more sympathetic. 

Harry looked down. It was a nice dress, long and blue, but Harry wasn't to know it was new. Was he?

Harry led Ginny across the room, losing their friends in the crowd as they went in search of something to help them get through the rest of the night.

: :

"Harry..."

Harry closed his eyes at the voice which came from behind him. He picked his drink up from the bar and took another sip. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed long enough, Hermione would go away. She was undoubtedly here to tell him off for something. Probably for drinking so many glasses of champagne that the number was now in double figures.

"Harry, open your eyes! I'm not going away."

Relenting, Harry decided it was easier to just get it over with.

"Hi, Hermione."

"What are you doing over here, all on your own? All your friends are over on the other side of the room, waiting for you and worrying about you. Plus, you were rude to Ginny when she was just trying to be friendly."

Harry closed one eye as he tried to remember what he'd done or said to Ginny. He took a sip of champagne to aid his memory. Oh! That was it.

"I forgot to get Dinny a grink when I went to the bar," he admitted. There was a drip of champagne on his wrist. He tried to lick it off without Hermione noticing. 

"Just how much have you drunk?"

"There's only one of you," Harry said. "So probably not enough."

Hermione huffed. 

"Ginny's your girlfriend, Harry..."

Harry waved his hand and shook his head. "No, she's not, not really, is she? She just tells people she is and I don't have any choice and I just want some peace, y'know?" 

"She is, Harry. You know it and I know it. Stop messing her about."

Harry snorted and turned away from her. He wasn't ready for anything as serious as Ginny wanted from him. The impression he got from her was that she was ready to move in with him... maybe even marry him. It wasn't that Harry didn't want Ginny -- he did. He loved her, but he needed things to go slower before he had to stop things altogether. They'd only been back together for a year! Hermione made a noise of disgust before he rested his head on the smooth, cool wood of the bar and listened to the sound of Hermione's clicking heels fading into the distance. 

For a second the sound of the hundreds of people in the room, milling around and talking and drinking and dancing overwhelmed him. 

In the corner of his eye, Harry saw somebody sit on the bar stool next to his. 

"Thanks for the entertainment, Potter."

Ohhh Jesus Christ. Somebody up there absolutely hated him. "Fuck off, Malfoy. I cannot physically be arsed to talk to you right now. Or ever."

There was a snort, followed by several minutes of Malfoy not talking to him, but talking to the barman instead. Harry blanked him out; it was one of the more useful skills he had learnt at Hogwarts, pretending to listen to Professor Binns in History of Magic.

Malfoy prodded him in the back.

Harry sat up, a beer mat stuck to his forehead. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and pulled it off, flicking it across the bar. He held up a bottle of firewhisky. 

"You need something stronger," Malfoy said. "And so do I. Nobody here seems even remotely interested in speaking to me, and the vast majority think I kill and torture people. Neither of which are true, as you very well know."

Harry swayed in his seat. "Why are you here then? And why me?"

Malfoy lifted a shoulder and ignored Harry's first question entirely. "I thought it may be... interesting." When Malfoy spoke, Harry could see a lot of his tongue. He wondered whether he could normally see people's tongues when they spoke. Malfoy's tongue looked a particularly nice shade of pink. Wait. Nice?

"Excuse me, earth to Potter."

"Oh," Harry said. "Yes. Wait, no. Wait. What was the question?"

With a roll of his eyes, Malfoy waved the bottle. "Follow me, Potter." He began to walk through the crowds of people, and there seemed to be nothing Harry could do but pursue him.

When Harry finally caught up with Malfoy, a few floors and corridors away from the party, Malfoy was leant against the wall. He'd stopped outside the double doors which led to the Auror Department, a place Harry had spent more time than he should have considering that he hadn't even begun training yet. 

Malfoy slid down the wall until his arse met the tiles, the rim of the bottle on his lips. His neck stretched as he swallowed and for some reason Harry couldn't stop himself from watching the way Malfoy's throat moved.

"Sit down, Potter," Malfoy directed.

Harry took a couple of heavy steps towards Malfoy and sat himself down, leaning against the wall. He reached his hand out for the bottle of firewhisky, and Malfoy passed it over. Not before taking another sip, and giving Harry another view of his perfectly pink tongue.

Shaking himself from thinking about Malfoy's tongueanymore, Harry took a huge mouthful of smoky alcohol, savouring the feeling of the liquid burning down his throat and warming his insides very pleasantly. 

"Good?" Malfoy asked.

Harry nodded, and then wiped a drop of firewhisky from his lips. "Needed that."

Malfoy took the bottle back. "Why are you here, Potter? You've had a face like a wet weekend the entire night. It's supposed to be a celebration." The last word was sneered. 

Harry shrugged. He didn't really fancy explaining the pressure on him to attend, the obligation he felt... and besides, it was Malfoy he was speaking to. Why would he understand when Hermione, Ron and Ginny didn't?

"Ohhh," Malfoy crooned. "I get it. Obligation. How on earth did I miss that? Don't worry Potter. That is one thing I do understand. Necessary, but very unpleasant."

Harry frowned. Malfoy wasn't supposed to understand. "Why are you here?"

Malfoy sighed and took a swig from the bottle. "Same reason, really. Trying, unsuccessfully mind, to drag the family name from the dirt. I doubt disappearing into dark corridors with you shall help. There will be a search party launched soon, searching for your body and calling for my arrest."

"Bastards," Harry said. "Only drinking." He snatched the bottle back. 

With a snort, Malfoy nodded. "Indeed, Potter. Only drinking."

The two of them sat in the dark corridor for a few minutes. The bottle exchanged hands frequently, the level of liquid decreasing rapidly. Harry was having difficulty keeping his thoughts straight, the alcohol had to be the reason for Malfoy's tongue being at the forefront of his mind. 

Harry watched as Malfoy fiddled with the clasps of his robe.

"Why are you wearing robes, Malfoy?"

"Why are you wearing a suit, Potter?" Malfoy mimicked. He shrugged off the robes, and began to rub at his collar bone through his shirt. 

Harry looked down. His nice pressed suit was no longer. "It's all creased," Harry stated.

"Yes," Malfoy said. He continued to rub his chest.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

Malfoy glanced at Harry and then down to his own chest. He pulled his shirt shut, hastily doing up the buttons where it had come open. Harry saw a flash of pale, shiny scar, and with the realization that Harry had done that, Harry had scarred Malfoy for life, Harry felt his stomach flip and ice grip his insides. 

Harry scrambled up onto his knees and shuffled around until he was facing Malfoy. He reached up to touch Malfoy's shirt.

"Can I?" Harry asked.

Malfoy's lips fell apart as he nodded his agreement. Suddenly, the atmosphere had changed. It was no longer drunken and slightly awkward. There was something forbidden hanging in the air and Harry was desperate to understand it. 

His hands shook as he slowly opened the buttons down Malfoy's shirt. With each, he revealed pale skin, and as he opened more, the scars remaining from Sectumsempra appeared. Malfoy's shirt was pushed to the side and Harry ran his fingers over the pale scars that ran along Malfoy's chest. 

Malfoy allowed his legs to drop, and Harry moved, straddling them as he touched Malfoy.

"I'm so sorry," Harry said. His fingers brushed Malfoy's dusty pink nipple and Malfoy made a small, helpless noise. 

Malfoy shook his head. "I deserved it," he whispered.

"No," Harry said. He shuffled forwards an inch or two. "No one deserves that."

"I tried to Crucio you," Malfoy muttered. A blush rose across his cheeks. He arched up into Harry's fingers as they roamed across his chest.

There was nothing Harry wanted more in that moment than to take one of Malfoy's nipples into his mouth and suck it. He wondered whether it was the alcohol that stopped him freaking out that he was groping Draco Malfoy in a darkened hallway, or whether it was justright. Maybe he was slightly attracted to men, even though he was definitely attracted to women as well. Despite her faults (and Harry's), Harry knew that he was meant to be with Ginny. Maybe he just needed to get this urge to be with a man out of his system before he could settle down. Ginny would never have to know.

Harry leant down until he was almost nose to nose with Malfoy. There was a look in Malfoy's eyes that Harry had never seen before -- he looked helpless and aroused and Harry really wanted to kiss him. 

Coming up with no good enough reason not to, Harry leant down, only to feel Malfoy's teeth clicking against his. They separated for a second, and Harry could feel a smile on Malfoy's lips as Harry leant in again to kiss him properly. Within seconds, Harry slipped his tongue in Malfoy's mouth licking along his teeth and tongue, brushing the tip over the roof of Malfoy's mouth, resulting in a delightful shiver. Finally, Harry was as close to Malfoy's gorgeously pink tongue as he possibly could be. Malfoy was an excellent kisser -- his tongue moved in just the right way to make the warmth of arousal pool in Harry's stomach, and further south as well.

Malfoy raised his hand to cradle Harry's face in his palm, and Harry wondered how he'd got to the age of nineteen without ever experiencing anything quite so intimate. Without meaning to, he moaned into Malfoy's mouth. Letting his other hand drop to Harry's arse, Malfoy pulled him in closer until their chests were touching and their crotches brushed together.

Even through two pairs of trousers and two pairs of boxers, Harry could feel Malfoy's arousal pressed against his thigh. As they kissed, Harry rocked his hips, causing the kind of friction in his boxers that was very soon going to push him over the edge. And if the noises Malfoy was making were anything to go by, Malfoy was in a similar situation.

Harry thrust his hips quickly as the seam of his trousers pulled in justtheright way across his cock and Malfoy's fingers dug into his arse. Reaching between his legs, Harry opened his trousers, squeezing his cock once before opening Malfoy's zip as well. Malfoy quickly worked his hands down into Harry's trousers and under his boxer shorts, grabbing his arse, his nails providing just the right feeling of pain mixed with pleasure that Harry didn't even know he needed.

Thrusting his hips forwards again, Harry let his cock slide alongside Malfoy's, which stood tall and proud, curving from his trousers. Harry grasped them both in his hand, before letting them go. Malfoy moaned, but it was almost a whine, as Harry licked the palm of his hand. He held their pricks again, and Malfoy's hips bucked as he tried to fuck Harry's hand, pushing his cock alongside Harry's.

It briefly crossed Harry's mind that he should be having an identity crisis some time about now, but Malfoy felt so good, that Harry couldn't help but not care.

Just a few minutes later, Malfoy's breathing began to speed up, and his head fell from side to side as he tried to push his cock faster and faster into the tight ring Harry's fist made around them. Harry could feel his own orgasm approaching, and he moved his hand faster, almost violently. 

Malfoy came with a cry, his back arching, and every muscle in his body tightening as his come spilled over Harry's fist. Harry continued to toss himself off as Malfoy sagged against the wall, and his cock fell from Harry's grip. He closed his eyes and rested one hand on the wall behind Malfoy as he carried on pushing his cock through his hand, and then, there was another hand around his cock, jerking him quicker, and at a different angle, and fuck, he was coming. Coming inMalfoy's hand.

Harry opened his eyes as his orgasm faded away to find Malfoy looking at him. Harry planted a sloppy kiss on his lips before he tumbled to the floor beside Malfoy, resting his head on Malfoy's knee. The faint taste of champagne and firewhisky remained from Malfoy's kisses. There was a moment's hesitation before Malfoy ran his fingers through Harry's damp hair.

"Malfoy -- " Harry began.

"Leave it for five minutes," Malfoy said. His voice was soft and sated. "Let us bask in the afterglow for five minutes until we have to go back to being enemies or whatever bollocks we are. Let's not ruin it by speaking."

There wasn't very much Harry could say to that. He too knew that in all honesty, tomorrow they would have to return to their everyday lives. He'd go back to Ginny... oh God, Ginny. What was he going to do? There wasn't a chance he could keep a secret like this from her, and he wasn't sure he wanted to either. But other than telling his girlfriend he'd given Draco Malfoy a hand-job, Harry couldn't see any other choice. 

But for now... for the next five minutes, Harry would lie in companionable silence with Malfoy and contemplate how different his life could be if he was anyone but Harry Potter, and Malfoy was any other man but Malfoy.

: :

3rd May, 1999

After a few minutes of lying together, Harry heard some faint voices down the hall. He hadn't thought the people would come down this corridor, and they didn't, but real life intruding on his and Malfoy's moment had woken them from what increasingly felt like a dream. With the zip of their trousers, straightening of hair and a quick cleaning spell, they went their separate ways.

Back at the party, Harry ran into Hermione almost immediately. Sighing at his drunken self, she took his arm, leading him towards Ron.

"We're going to go now. Where's your tie gone?" she asked and relieved, Harry had followed them to the Apparation points and ignored the question. He'd kissed Ginny on the nose (he'd aimed for her lips, honestly) and Apparated home. 

Which brought Harry to the following morning.

He awoke way earlier than normal, the sun streaming through the curtains where he hadn't managed to shut them properly last night. The sweat on his forehead became apparent as Harry returned to consciousness. The reason became apparent as he shifted and realized his suit was still on. 

Harry groped around his bed sheets for his wand, and amazingly, came across it. He muttered a couple of charms, and the curtains pinged shut and his clothes flew off into a messy pile in the corner of his room. When Harry really concentrated, his clothes would appear dry-cleaned on a hanger in his wardrobe. Not today, but Harry was impressed his clothes had come off his body at all.

As he lay there in the morning light, he pulled the cool sheets around them. There was a flare of heat in his stomach as his cock began to stir to life. He'd even woken up too early to get morning wood, but his body was doing its best to right that now. As he slid his hand under the sheets and cupped his cock in his hand, the memories of last night came flooding back to him. Harry could still taste firewhisky in his throat from Malfoy's kisses and as he touched himself, he could imagine that it was Malfoy touching him as well. Malfoy running his hand up and down his cock, making him come.

His hand stilled. Ginny. He really shouldn't be thinking about Malfoy. He really shouldn't have had sex with Malfoy, never mind wanking over the memory the next morning. Releasing his cock, Harry sighed, pulling the tightly sheets around him, stubbornly keeping his hands away from his crotch. 

Still. One think about Malfoy would get it out of his system. Who could blame him after what happened last night? As terrible as it had been to do that to Ginny, Harry couldn't help what happened, or help be excited and nervous about what had happened. What would he do if he saw Malfoy today in Diagon Alley? Or tomorrow in the Ministry? Alcohol had a lot to answer for, but Harry couldn't deny that last night had simply been the manifestation of feelings Harry didn't even know he wanted to experience. He'd just do this, just remember one time how Malfoy had made him feel, made him come, and Harry knew he could just get on with his life. One little tiny fling before he finally settled down with Ginny. 

Harry slid his hand back under the sheets, and took his half-hard cock in his hand. Just a minute or two of remembering how Malfoy had kissed him, held him and how his prick had felt in Harry's hand brought him to fully erect. It didn't take long after that for Harry to come, and fall back into a delicate, hungover state.

A few hours later, Harry was awoken by some loud knocking at his front door. There were only about ten people in the world that could knock on his front door thanks to a complicated Fidelius Charm. Not one of them would appreciate being ignored in favour of sleeping off a hangover, much to Harry's displeasure.

With a groan, Harry rose from his bed, wrapping a towel around his hips as he belatedly realized that he was starkers. No one would care about his lack of clothes, and if they did, they shouldn't knock at his door at ten o'clock on a Saturday. He took the stairs slowly, his head swimming uncomfortably as he plodded down. 

Expecting to see Hermione standing in front of him, Harry opened the door. Instead, he saw Ron. Close enough.

"All right, mate?" Ron asked. He had his sympathetic voice on, the one he used when Hermione had PMS. 

Harry grunted. "Early. Want to come in?"

Ron shook his head. "Nah, just thought I'd drop some Hangover Potion off seen as we finished the last of it off after that pre-Auror meeting. Needed some for Hermione as well. Barely drank and she's still got a banging headache." He held out a small paper bag, which Harry took gratefully.

"I love you," Harry said.

Ron snorted, and rubbed the back his neck. "Shut up, you fairy. Mum's tomorrow?"

Harry nodded as he ignored his insides clenching at the insinuation. He was being ridiculous. If he was gay, Ron wouldn't care. After all, he was totally fine with Charlie's sexuality. And anyway, Harry wasn't gay. Drunken one-offs didn't count in anybody's book. "Normal time?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Excellent. Going back to bed now."

"Good choice, you look like shit."

"Charmer," Harry said, and with a wiggle of his fingers, shut the door in Ron's face. 

Harry pulled the tiny vial from the bag and downed the liquid. It wasn't a cure, but in an hour or so he'd feel a damn sight more human than he did right now. He'd got half-way up the stairs before there was another knock. Whatever Ron had forgotten, Harry was going to kill him for it. He hoped Ron had said a nice goodbye to Hermione and his mum. 

He wrenched the door open. "You're a bastard, and I hate you..." the last word trailed off as he saw Malfoy standing in front of him rather than Ron.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Delightful. Do you always answer the door half naked and swearing like a pirate?"

It happened a lot more frequently than Harry would care to admit, but he wasn't going to confess that to Malfoy any time soon.

"No," Harry said dumbly. And then, "A pirate?"

A blush rose over Malfoy's cheeks before he said, "Shut up, you fucker, and let me in before I go and tell Skeeter just what you got up to last night."

With that, Harry grabbed his arm and yanked him inside his house and pushed him up against the wall.

Malfoy shook Harry off, wrinkling his nose and straightening his robes.

"If you fucking dare, Malfoy, I swear..."

"Swear what? Swear my life won't be worth living? Give me a break, Potter, it's not exactly smelling of roses right now."

Harry pushed him against the wall again, and tried to ignore how his cock began to swell under the towel. Oh fuck. He was only wearing a towel and he couldn't exactly leave Malfoy alone in his house so he could go and get dressed. 

"Do stop manhandling me, Potter... although I know you love it... that you're up for it already," Malfoy said salaciously. 

Dropping Malfoy's arm as if stung, he stepped away quickly. "What are you doing here? And how did you found my shitting house?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You told me the address last night, you stupid prick. I came to return something."

"Why would I tell you that?"

"You're rather easy to get a secret out of when you've got a hand around your cock."

Harry stepped forwards, intent on choking Malfoy to death. He raised his hands in surrender and Harry paused.

"Fine, fine. You told me... you know. Afterwards. No secrets were elicited during orgasm."

Harry really hated his drunk self sometimes. 

"Doesn't mean you needed to come round... and I dunno, taunt me."

"If you think this is taunting, you haven't heard anything yet."

"Malfoy..."

"Fine, fine. You left your tie," Malfoy reached inside his robes to pull out a shiny purple tie. It was definitely Harry's. "I thought you might want it back." He dangled it from his fingers.

With a nod, Harry held out his hand, but Malfoy made no further move. In the back of his mind, Harry knew Malfoy was just trying to get him close. At that moment, Harry could think of very few reasons to stay away that took precedence over an orgasm. Malfoy being a git was fairly important, but he had been a git last night too and that hadn't stopped him. 

Harry did as he thought Malfoy wanted and moved forwards, until their toes were only inches apart, and their thighs, chests and noses nearly brushed. Malfoy's breath was warm on Harry's cheek and smelt like coffee. Harry wanted to kiss the taste away and replace it with the taste of him.

Silk brushed his fingers, and Harry took the tie from Malfoy. Reaching behind Malfoy, he took one end of the tie in each hand and pulled him in, the tie pulling under Malfoy's round arse. Their crotches strained against each other.

"Is this what you came here for?" Harry asked, whispering harshly into Malfoy's ear. Malfoy was already breathing quicker, and Harry could feel his cock, hard against his. 

Malfoy shook his head.

"Liar. Tell me, Malfoy."

He whined, and Harry looked into his eyes. Harry wasn't skilled in the slightest at reading people's faces, or their intentions in their eyes, but even he knew what pupils dilated like that meant. He wasn't going to give in, though. Malfoy would have to kiss him first.

It didn't take long. Barely a minute later, Malfoys lips and tongue and teeth were pulling at Harry's lips, urging him into a kiss more desperate than Harry had ever been a part of. Using the tie, Harry pulled him across the hallway until his back met the wall. Malfoy flung his arms around Harry's neck, and Harry let himself get lost in the kiss. 

Malfoy's lips against his felt amazing -- they were a lot more useful when they weren't bitching at Harry, calling him names or threatening to tell Rita Skeeter about exploits he'd rather keep secret. Harry's towel began to slip down his hips as Malfoy began to rock against him, thrusting their cloth covered cocks alongside each other. As Malfoy stepped backwards, the towel fell completely, along with Harry's tie, to pool at his feet.

Malfoy gasped before his lips settled into a smirk. Harry was half afraid he'd whip a camera out from behind his back and begin a quest to humiliate Harry entirely. Harry again had to ask himself why he was doing this. He was suddenly very aware that he was stark bollock naked and Malfoy was fully robed. 

When Malfoy dropped to his knees and took Harry between his lips, Harry found his answer. And found another use for Malfoy's dirty mouth, too. 

Harry's cock twitched, and he knew there wasn't a chance that Malfoy didn't notice how eager he was to push his cock through those thin, pink lips. The idea of Malfoy swallowing for Harry sent a surge of heat through his balls. 

"Is this what you want, Potter?" Malfoy asked. He sounded almost patronizing. 

Harry nodded.

"Say it."

Expelling a harsh breath first, Harry told him, "Suck it."

With that, Harry's cock was sucked into a heat so warm and wet and amazing, that his knees almost buckled. An arm slid around his legs, holding him up. He dug his fingers into Malfoy's hair and Malfoy began to suck harder. Malfoy pulled his lips off Harry's cock, taking the base between two fingers. He treated it to a full length lick, before dipping his tongue into the ridges at the head. Harry let out a moan, trying not to dig his fingers into Malfoy's scalp too much. 

"Malfoy..."

Malfoy engulfed his cock once more, and as Harry felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Malfoy's throat, he threw his head back and let out a loud groan.

One thing was for certain: Malfoy was amazing at sucking cock. He seemed to know the exact places to dip his tongue, the speed to lick and how to suck to make Harry feel like his head was going to explode.

It wasn't going to take long for Harry to come. Just a few more minutes of Malfoy's amazing rhythm or...

Harry gasped. A finger brushed against his perineum, and then further back. Further than Harry had ever ventured in situations like this. It rubbed against his entrance before briefly pushing in, and Harry came with the force of a thousand freight trains. 

Vaguely, Harry felt Malfoy swallow around his prick before letting it drop from his lips. Harry sank to the floor next to Malfoy, his breathing and heart beat ridiculously quick. Malfoy caught his gaze, and Harry leant over him, climbing on top of him on his hands and knees. Malfoy gasped as he was pushed against the floor.

Leaning down, Harry caught his lips in a kiss before pulling back to mutter a spell. Malfoy's clothes disappeared from between them, and Malfoy's cock sprung up to nudge him.

Arching his back like a cat, Malfoy rubbed his cock up and down Harry's thigh and anywhere else he could reach -- he could feel pre-come slick and damp against his skin. Harry reached his hand between them, taking Malfoy's cock in his hand. It throbbed in his hand, and Harry squeezed.

Malfoy whined, pushing his hips upwards. Harry squeezed.

"Potter!" he moaned.

"Potter, what?"

"Potter, please, please, come on, you fucker..."

"Not today, Malfoy." Harry began to work his hand up and down Malfoy's cock. From what Harry could feel, Malfoy was close. His moans had yet to cease and only seemed to be growing more frenzied and anxious. Harry sped his hand up, so fast it had to be almost painful.

"Potter, now now now, I'm going to..." Malfoy's words trailed off as Harry felt a splash of warm liquid against his stomach and fist. He wiped the mess on Malfoy's arm, and collapsed in a heap on the floor. 

Malfoy laughed weakly, casting a quick cleaning charm then lifting his hips to pull his trousers back on. Harry fumbled around the floor, grabbing his towel and re-wrapping it around his hips. 

"What the fuck?" Harry asked with a strained laugh. He sat himself up and Malfoy did the same. He was struck by how odd they must have looked, messy and flushed sat on the dingy floor of Harry's hallway. 

Lifting a shoulder, Malfoy said, "Don't know. Fun though, isn't it?"

A shiver passed through Harry's body and he felt sick. He'd cheated on Ginny again. "No, Malfoy, it's fucking not. It's not fun." He stood up and backed away from Malfoy. Malfoy looked at him, his eyes hard, and his lips set in a line. 

Malfoy stood to his feet quickly and backed Harry against a wall.

"Malfoy, get off me." Harry clenched his fists.

"Next time, Potter," Malfoy hissed. "You're going to be begging me for it."

Harry scoffed. "Fuck you, Malfoy. You're kidding yourself if you think I'm ever going to touch you again. Get the fuck out of my house."

Malfoy leaned in towards him, and Harry could feel Malfoy's breath on his neck and fuck smell his come, too. Harry almost whimpered. "Begging for it, Potter," he said. "Absolutely gagging."

He swept from Harry's house with a swoop of his robes. Harry was left breathless.

: :

4th May, 1999

The next day, Harry was still shaken by his encounters with Malfoy. He shut himself in his house, ignoring the Floo when Ginny called. Hopefully she'd just assume he was too hung-over to talk. Dealing with talking to Ginny was not an option, not yet. He needed to get his head around what happened first, if he could figure it out. 

And that was just it. He didn't have a clue what had happened. The first night, Malfoy had seemed fairlynice, if he was honest. The encounter had come as a complete surprise. Harry had never imagined the possibility of being gay before, but when it happened, it just felt so natural, and so good, that he couldn't imagine living his whole life without having his hand round another man's cock again. But Ginny. He loved having sex with Ginny as well. And the second time. Malfoy had been horrible -- more like the person Harry loved to hate. But somehow, that made Harry want him more. He wanted to know how the nice Malfoy turned so easily into the bastard Harry knew and expected. And it made him wonder if it had something to do with Harry, the way Malfoy had behaved the first time. It intrigued him, and by now, Harry knew himself. He knew that he would have to find out what it was about Malfoy for him to be able to forget about it.

Harry sighed. He wasn't going to chase him though. No. Malfoy would be back, and Harry would try talking to him rather than giving him a hand job and chucking him out. 

With a click, the kettle told Harry it was boiled. 

"Thanks," he muttered. He still hadn't got used to his kitchen appliances talking to him.

Chucking a tea bag in a mug, he poured the water out before topping it off with milk and removing the tea bag. 

"Make me one?"

He spun around. 

"Ginny."

She smiled softly. Harry quickly ran his eyes up and down her. God, she looked gorgeous today, wearing just a pair of tight jeans and a vest top. He strode over and kissed her. Ginny was his girlfriend, he was supposed to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissing Ginny was nothing like kissing Malfoy. Already he missed the scratch of stubble against his jaw, and a strong mouth against his. Ginny was so... pliant. Malfoy did everything like it was his last second on earth.

She pulled away, slightly breathless. "Oh. I wasn't expecting that."

Harry laughed awkwardly, turning back to his tea. He pulled out another cup to make Ginny some. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she said. She stood behind him, wrapping her hands around his waist. 

He turned in her arms, holding their tea. "Living room?"

Ginny smiled, and let him go. They sat down in the living room. Ginny curled her legs between Harry's and he felt inexplicably awkward. How on earth was he supposed to behave around her now?

However, while Harry was bumbling and stiff, Ginny didn't seem to notice. She didn't know anything was wrong.

"I was thinking I'd make us a nice dinner tonight," she said.

"Oh," Harry said. "Yeah, yeah all right. That would be nice. Want me to get anything in?"

Ginny shook her head. "I've already got the ingredients, thanks. I asked mum whether I could stay over, but she said no."

"Surprise, surprise." Up until three days ago, Harry's biggest problem in life had been finding alone time with his girlfriend. Namely, wanting her to stay at his house, like the adults they were. However, Mrs. Weasley had different ideas involving marriage and saving themselves. The saving themselves element had long passed (not that Mrs. Weasley knew that) but Ginny was not allowed to stay in Harry's bed over night until her wedding night.

Ginny sighed. "I know."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping tea that was too hot. 

"Oh," Ginny said. "I got an owl this morning from the Ministry."

"About the job in the Quidditch department?"

She nodded, her red hair shining in the light.

"And, how did it go?"

"I got it!"

"Oh, Gin, that's brilliant!" He planted a hot tea-scented kiss on her cheek. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "It's only two weeks until I start, so we better make the most of these long days together." Ginny squeezed his thigh, and Harry prayed for a bolt of arousal to hit him. It didn't. Then again, it was early, and he had already taken care of his morning erection. It was just too soon.

"Yeah... that sounds amazing."

"And now that I've got a job, I can relax with money and things and concentrate on my training so I can go and do some trials for Quidditch teams in January."

Harry nodded. He knew Ginny's plans to try out for teams in the new year, when trials were generally held. The Holyhead Harpies was Ginny's goal, but Harry thought that she'd accept any position to begin with, just to get her foot on the ladder.

"Well done, Gin, I'm really proud of you."

"Everything's working out," she smiled. "I've got a job... you're starting your training in September. Doesn't it just feel like our lives are all set out?"

From Ginny's tone, Harry knew she thought this was a good thing. However, it scared him shitless. Ginny waseighteen. Surely it wasn't natural for her to want her life planned out. Where was the excitement, the intrigue? It frightened Harry that he could easily imagine Ginny planning out their wedding in her head. It barely felt like he had any choice in how his life was panning out. After he'd left Hogwarts, Harry had promised himself that no one was going to dictate his life like Dumbledore had. He knew it had been necessary back then, but now... now it wasn't.

"Yeah," he said. "You're right. It does."

: :

10th May, 1999

If there was one thing Harry had come to hate, it was Diagon Alley on a weekday at lunch time. The streets had begun to recover from the mess the war had made them. The majority of the shops were filled, and plenty of people roamed the streets shopping for their weekly wares, new clothes and school supplies. It was the people that Harry hated. All he wanted to do was go and buy his books for September to get an early start on the hard work, and he couldn't do that with what seemed like thousands of people crowding around him, shaking his hand and thanking him. Harry was quite aware how childish he sounded.

He strode along the streets, head down. He had to go and collect Ron from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes first. It was about his lunch time now, and he and Harry would go and have lunch consisting of mainly ice cream before buying another thing from their list of Auror necessities. 

The door laughed hysterically as Harry walked through. Ron looked up from behind the counter. 

"All right, mate?" Ron asked. "George! Harry's here, I'm going for lunch!" 

George appeared from around the corner. "All right, Harry?"

"Yeah, ta," Harry said with a smile. He still found it difficult to act normally around George since Fred's death. It was harder with George than anyone else, but he had no idea why. "You?"

"Fan-diddly-tastic, mate. All right, Ron, bugger off. See you in an hour."

Ron grunted and grabbed his jacket, slipping it over his shoulders. 

"What do you fancy today?" They were trying to work their way through every flavour on Florean Fortescue's ice cream menu. The shop had been re-opened after the war by a niece of his in memory.

"I think the Hob Nob flavour was next on the menu, wasn't it?"

"Oh yeah," Ron said. "That one sounds all right. Better than that haddock flavoured one."

"Anything would be better than the haddock flavoured one."

"I swear they only put it on the menu after they realized that we were trying to eat them all. Bastards."

"That would not surprise me," Harry replied. He shuddered at the memory of the fish ice cream. "Do you want to go and get the books first?"

Ron sighed, staring at Florean's wistfully. "I suppose. Need to get a book for Hermione too. I better do it while I still remember the title."

"She didn't write it down?"

"Left it at home, didn't I?"

They headed along the street to Flourish and Blotts. The place was unchanged from when Harry had been before, even back in first year. There was a warm, familiar feeling about the book shop, and Harry ached to drink in the smell of the place. 

"Hello, Sirs," a girl said as she breezed towards them, "how may I help you today?"

"Er," Harry said, as he dug around in his pocket. He came across the list he was looking for and held it out. The girl -- Bernadette, her name tag read -- took the crumpled list from his fingers and opened it up. 

"Of course, Sir," she said, scanning his scrawl. "And for you?" She turned to Ron.

"Same please."

With a nod, Bernadette walked a way, and Harry watched, bemused, as she moved like a whirlwind around the shop.

"Mate," Ron said. "I never know, when people like her come up to you, whether they recognise you or not."

Harry snorted. He put down the shiny silver spinning top that he had been playing with. It was charmed to never fall. "She did, saw her look at my scar quickly."

Ron nodded. "Better at covering it up than most of them."

"She is indeed," Harry replied. "What's this?" He held up a small silver structure that curved and turned in his palm.

Squinting, Ron shrugged. "Merlin knows. Looks like something Dumbledore would have had in his office."

"Yeah, yeah you're right." Harry placed it back on the shelf, next to tens of similar contraptions. 

"Excuse me," a voice behind them trilled. Harry turned and caught a glimpse of blond hair. Surely it wasn't... no. It couldn't be. Bernadette stood before them, two huge stacks of books levitating in front of her. Harry hurried to take them from the air. 

Ron sighed, and took his too. "Back in a minute mate, I've just got to get that book for Hermione."

"Oh, sure," Harry said to his retreating back. Bernadette was leading him towards the counter, ready to ring up his books. He put them down on the mahogany counter and dug around for his coins. 

Then, there was a hand on the small of his back, someone standing very close to him and whispering in his ear. "Potter. Yours in ten minutes. We have... business to discuss."

Harry turned to see Malfoy, and they were almost nose to nose. Malfoy out stretched his arm and reached between Harry's legs, squeezing. He had never been gladder that robes hid a multitude of sins. 

"Malfoy!" Harry hissed. 

"Ten minutes," Malfoy said, and swept from the shop.

Harry snorted to himself. Malfoy had another thing coming if he thought Harry was just going to follow him every time he clicked his fingers. And besides, things between him and Ginny were going amazingly. He had no need for Malfoy in his life whatsoever. 

He handed over the Galleons which Bernadette asked for, and watched as Ron paid for his and Hermione's books as well. As they walked along the street, headed for Floreans, Harry had a sudden mental of image of Malfoy stood outside his front door. Then Malfoy speaking to Rita Skeeter, and Malfoy on his back, naked, waiting for Harry. Remembering what a git Malfoy had been last time they met, Harry swore to himself that Malfoy would be begging for it, not Harry.

"Ron, listen," Harry began, "I think I left the oven on. Can we postpone Hob Nob ice cream until tomorrow?"

"Oh," Ron said. "Yeah, I s'pose. Don't want your house to burn down, do we?"

Harry forced a smile and pulled out his wand. "Exactly, mate. I'll er, see you tomorrow then." He Apparated from the busy, bustling street there and then.

He appeared in his kitchen and put his new books down on the table. After a quick glance to the oven, to check if it actually was off, he walked through to the living room. Straightening a few cushions and clearing away six empty mugs of tea did very little to dispel his nerves. Then there was a knock at the door. 

Harry didn't realize the range of things which could inspire an erection for him -- it now appeared to include the aforementioned knock at the door. 

He took a deep breath and headed down the hallway. Through the small window of the door, he could see the blond of Malfoys hair. A funny feeling rose from his stomach which he couldn't attribute to arousal. Fuck. He was actually looking forward to seeing Malfoy.

"Malfoy," Harry said as he opened the door, trying to sound suitably pissed off at his presence. "What do you want?"

Carefully, Malfoy stepped around Harry into his house. "Oh, nothing."

Malfoy wandered through the hallways of Harry's house until he came to the kitchen. Harry watched as he ran his fingers over his new books.

"Auror training, Potter," Malfoy said. "So predictable."

Harry rolled his eyes. "And what?"

Malfoy turned to him and shrugged. "I wasn't convinced you would conform to what society expected of you. I was wrong."

Harry tried to convince himself that that wasn't a note of disappointment he could hear in Malfoy's voice. What was it to him?

"Well, what are you doing now?"

Malfoy smirked. "Currently, very little. But I am due to start at Gringotts in September as an intern with the possibility of training to be a banker."

"Oh, right," Harry said. "Sounds... fun."

With a roll of his eyes, Malfoy wandered around the side of Harry's kitchen table. He ran his finger along the kitchen work tops until he came to the kettle. "What's this?"

"It's a kettle."

"What does it do?"

"Are you taking the piss?"

Malfoy shot him a withering look. "The only experience I have of kettles is of those which whistle. And that is from watching house elves do the work. And they cast Heating Charms. I assume they both have the same purpose?"

Harry nodded and walked over. He picked up the kettle (made of a delightful white plastic from Sainsbury's and costing about a fiver) and opened the lid. "You put the water in here from the tap," he ran the tap, filling the kettle, "Then you put it back on the stand. Flick the switch and you'll have boiling water in a couple of minutes." 

Malfoy leant over and flicked the switch, eyeing it suspiciously as a red light appeared. "Electricity I presume?"

"Yeah." It struck him how surreal the situation was, standing in his kitchen explaining how to use a kettle to Draco Malfoy. "The whole house is. It's a Muggle neighbourhood if you hadn't noticed."

Malfoy's lips twist into a smile. "I had. Thank you, Potter."

"You're welcome?"

They stood in silence for a few seconds until the kettle boiled. Malfoy peered over the kettle as the water boiled and steam spread upwards into his face. 

"Odd," he commented, shaking his head to dispel the steam Harry imagined he could still feel on his face. 

Harry leant against the kitchen counter. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"I was bored. You... intrigue me. Is that okay?"

Spluttering, Harry managed to say, "I guess."

"Good."

Now, Malfoy was advancing on him, and Harry couldn't help but back up into the corner formed by the kitchen cabinets.

"Malfoy," he breathed.

Malfoy didn't speak, he simply pressed his lips to Harry's. There was no way Harry could resist. He didn't want to. Despite telling himself that Malfoy was the last thing he wanted and that he could easily stay away, when Malfoy's lips were on his, Harry knew the truth. It was undeniable. He wanted Draco Malfoy, more than he ever thought possible.

For long moments, he and Malfoy kissed until Malfoy parted his lips and Harry took the opportunity to slip his tongue into his warm, wet mouth. The stubble gracing Harry's chin caught on Malfoy's skin. Malfoy was perfectly shaved -- Harry stroked the side of Malfoy's jaw the skin beneath his fingers soft and smooth. Harry wanted to keep Malfoy in his room until the hair grew, until it would scratch and leave marks. 

Malfoy moved, pushing his thigh between Harry's legs until Harry's cock brushed against his knee. He ground into it, his cock already aching for touch.

Harry didn't want to do this in his kitchen, whatever was going to happen. God, he hoped Malfoy would suck him off again. His mouth began to water at the thought of Malfoy's cock in his mouth, the flesh weighing heavily on his tongue, hot and full in his mouth. 

The living room. That would be fine. He couldn't ask Malfoy to his bedroom. It was too personal. And this was just a one off. It was the last time. It had to be.

"Come upstairs with me," Harry muttered against Malfoy's lips. Fuck. Where did that come from? When it came to Malfoy, Harry didn't seem to be able to help himself.

Malfoy pulled away, staring at Harry from only inches away. Usually, Harry didn't like to be looked at, but he basked in Malfoy's attention. He felt like never before, so wanted and sexual.

"Okay," Malfoy said, and he let Harry take him by the hand and lead him upstairs.

Harry hovered outside the closed door of his room. Was he really doing this? It was actual sex if it was in a bed.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and opened the door for him.

Ridiculously thankful for Malfoy taking that step for him, but unable to articulate it, Harry pulled him into a kiss, more passionate and hard and fast than they'd ever kissed before. Lips pulled and teeth clicked as they shuffled across the room, their hands flying across buttons and zips.

Harry fell on the bed as Malfoy gave him a push, his trousers and boxers around his ankles, and his t-shirt around his armpits. Malfoy let out a loud breath, running his hand through his hair. It seemed to calm him down. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch as Malfoy stripped.

His shirt was flung to the side, and he stepped from his trousers. Malfoy let his fingers run over the bulge in his boxers before he began to pull at Harry's trousers, then boxers too. Harry threw his t-shirt across the room. He didn't see, but the top covered a picture of him and Ginny.

Malfoy fell to his knees. Harry groaned, even before Malfoy took his cock into his hand. He shuffled down the bed, giving Malfoy better access.

"Slightly eager are we, Potter?" Malfoy asked.

"Shut up," Harry said. He flung a hand across his face. His hips thrust up into the circle of Malfoy's hand. 

"What do you want me to do?"

His hand still over his face, Harry muttered, "Suck me."

"What was that?" Malfoy asked lightly. His fingers pulled at Harry's balls, rolling them and squeezing gently. 

Harry sat up, leaning on his elbows again. "Suck me."

Smirking, Malfoy did as he was asked. To Harry, it seemed that Malfoy had a bit of a speaking fetish. He talked more during one blow-job than he or Ginny had ever done in all of their experiences. As Malfoy sucked Harry down to the root, he realized that thinking about Ginny right now would be the worst thing he could do. To his arousal and to Malfoy.

Malfoy began to suck, moving his mouth up and down Harry's cock, his tongue licking and massaging at the curves and veins. He pulled his mouth nearly entirely off, with just the head left in his mouth. His tongue explored the slit, and Harry would bet money that he tasted his pre-come. That. That was what Harry wanted. 

Harry tugged at Malfoy's hair, pulling him off. He had a frown on his face as Harry's cock fell with a pop from his mouth, and hit him wetly in the stomach. Shuffling backwards, Harry bit his lip, then whispered, "Come here."

Malfoy clambered on the bed, moving to give Harry a kiss, but Harry pulled at his hip. "Wanna suck you too," he said.

Malfoy let out a groan that sounded like it came right from his heart. It certainly went right to Harry's cock. He straddled Harry's chest, moving backwards until his cock hung in front of Harry's mouth. Harry took it in his hand, the flesh warm and throbbing. Malfoy sucked Harry back into his mouth almost straight away.

Looking at Malfoy's cock in front of him, certainly not inconsiderable in size, but maybe slightly smaller than his own, Harry wondered how he'd ended up here. Lying on his back, 69-ing with Malfoy. And it was the first time Harry had sucked anyone off. He certainly didn't do things by halves. 

But he was here now. Harry let the tip of Malfoy's cock push between his lips, running his tongue over unfamiliar ridges and curves. He sucked gently, and felt Malfoy's thighs clench beneath his fingers. It only served to spur him on. Harry began to suck more, harder and faster, making sure his lips were over his teeth. But then again... Malfoy seemed to like it a bit rougher and harder than Harry had ever experienced before. Experimentally, he let his teeth lightly graze Malfoy's cock and was rewarded with a moan that sent small vibrations around Harry's cock.

Oh, God. Malfoy's mouth felt amazing sliding up and down his prick, sucking and licking and kissing. Harry could feel his arousal pooling in his stomach, but he knew that he wouldn't come like this. Still, it felt amazing.

But then, Malfoy pulled his mouth off and took a deep breath. "Your finger," he said.

Malfoy's cock fell from his mouth. "What?" Harry asked.

Malfoy scoffed. "Come on, Potter. Do you want to fuck me or not?"

Harry most certainly did, if a hint could be taken from his cock twitching and tapping Malfoy on the chin. "Oh, yeah. Fuck, right."

Sticking his finger in his mouth to lubricate it slightly, Harry took Malfoy's cock back into his mouth. Malfoy laid small kisses along Harry's as he did. He smoothed his hand across the cheeks of Malfoy's arse, and God he wished he could see. The pucker of Malfoy's arse fluttered as Harry's finger brushed it, and slowly, he pushed his finger in. One knuckle then two and three as Malfoy pushed back against him.

Harry needed to see. He pulled his finger from Malfoy's tight hole and grabbed his hips, flipping them over so Malfoy was on his back. He landed with a grunt. Harry turned himself the right way round so he was on top of Malfoy, face to face. He pushed his lips against Malfoy's, and was rewarded with a passionate kiss. Harry slipped his hands between them to pull Malfoy's cock a couple of times. Then he ventured further. He muttered a couple of words against Malfoy's lips, lubricating his fingers before sliding one, then two inside Malfoy's tight arse. 

Malfoy groaned against his lips, thrusting his hips to get Harry's fingers further inside him. 

"Potter, now!" 

Harry shuffled backwards to watch as Malfoy spread his legs, the pucker of his arse glistening with lube, ready for him. He ran his hands over his cock a few times, coating it liberally in lube.

"Yeah?" Harry said. He tried to stop his hands from shaking.

"Yes!" Malfoy moaned. His hands were screwing up the bed sheets and his back was arched. "Just start slowly."

"Okay," Harry said. He lined his cock up with Malfoy's arse, pushing past the initial resistance until he was sheathed so tightly and hotly that he could barely comprehend it.

When Harry's balls brushed against Malfoy's arse, he stilled.

"Malfoy," he whispered.

Malfoy opened his eyes like it took a lot of effort.

"Potter," he sighed.

"We're really doing this?"

Malfoy smiled. It was a soft smile that Harry had never seen before, but he definitely wanted to see it again. He wanted to make Malfoy feel like that. "Looks like it," he whispered. He shifted his hips, sending a frisson of arousal through Harry. "Fuck me, Potter."

"So much for me begging for it," Harry muttered, and he got a sharp pinch on his arse for his trouble.

There was little Harry could do to stop himself after that. Malfoy raised his legs and leant them on Harry's shoulders so he was almost bent double. Harry thrust, pushing his cock in and out. There was nothing else in the world as important as Harry's cock in Malfoy's hole, and God, at the moment, it felt like there never would be again.

"Touch yourself," Harry muttered. He leant his damp forehead on the sole of Malfoy's foot, before biting gently at the skin.

Malfoy groaned and slid his hand down his body, tweaking his nipples as he did. Harry made a mental note. He grabbed his cock and began stroking, moving his strokes from slow to almost violently fast in seconds.

"Are you close?" Malfoy asked, arching his hips up into Harry's thrusts.

Even though it had only been a few minutes, Harry found that he was. He nodded, and began to move faster, feeling Malfoy's movements speed up in synchronism. 

"Gunna come, Potter," Malfoy warned breathlessly. Harry just nodded, because so was he, he was coming, deep inside Malfoy, feeling like there was nothing better in this world than being inside him. There was a splash of warm liquid against Harry's stomach as Malfoy came too, his back bowed and his muscles taut.

Harry collapsed on top of him, and Malfoy's hand rested on his back as they both caught their breath. Moving back, Harry slipped out of Malfoy and rolled to the side. Their hands brushed as they lay there and Malfoy took it firmly.

Feeling his eyes begin to shut as Malfoy moved in closer to his torso, Harry was sure he was dreaming. There was no way Draco Malfoy was a cuddler. Then again... Harry was beginning to realize that very little he thought about Malfoy seemed to be true.

: :

13th July, 1999

After the day they spent together (and night as well), lying in bed, eating the leftover Chinese which Harry had in the fridge, Malfoy almost seemed like a permanent fixture in his life. Every now and again, he would appear at Harry's front door and jump on him. More than once they had fucked on the entrance hall floor. 

And then... he would see Ginny as well. Ginny knew nothing. He knew any hint that something was wrong would devastate her. This thing between him and Malfoy... it couldn't last. Why should Ginny suffer for one little affair which was bound to end soon? She shouldn't. Once it was over, he and Ginny could get on with their real lives. But until then, Harry would take any opportunity to see Malfoy. 

For a couple of months, that was how it went. Malfoy would come round once or twice a week, they'd fuck, eat take-away and, privately, imagine how it would be if the world consisted of just the two of them. 

Until one day, one on which Malfoy had slept over. Harry was awoken by gentle sucking on his cock. He could feel Malfoy's hair tickling his thighs as he slowly bobbed up and down. His hands fell to the bed sheets, grasping them between his fingers as he tried not to thrust up into Malfoy's mouth too hard. 

Then there was a squawk and a tap at the window. Harry pulled his eyes open to stare at the window.

He gasped as Malfoy provided his prick with a particularly strong suck. "That... that's Hermione's owl... Malfoy, please." Thankfully, Malfoy realized he meant please stop rather than please carry on.

With a long lick up Harry's cock, Malfoy pulled off. He sat back on his heels and wiped his hand across his lips.

"This better be good."

Harry rolled his eyes and scrambled across the bed to greet the owl. He heard Malfoy flop down on the bed, and glanced over to see him stretching across it, his back arching and a yawn escaping his lips. Harry doubted he had ever seen anyone that beautiful naked before and wondered if he ever would again. But if he had Malfoy it wouldn't be necessary anyway. 

The cool air hit his chest, hardening his nipples instantly. The owl -- Artemis -- stuck its leg out for Harry to take it. He did so, slipping it a treat he kept in a box on the window sill. It flew off, quickly fading to just a dot.

Shutting the window quickly, he jumped back onto the bed, nuzzling into the covers and the side of Malfoy body.

"What does it say?" Malfoy asked. He ran his fingers over the curve of Harry's arse and down his thighs. The sensations made Harry shiver.

"Er..." Harry pulled the seal from the parchment and un-rolled it. "Oh, just you know. Stuff."

"Weasley stuff," Malfoy snorted, stealing the letter from Harry's hands. "Blah blah blah Ginny blah blah pub blah blah Weasleys. Have fun with that, Potter." 

"Thanks," Harry muttered. He watched Malfoy drop the sheet of parchment on the floor. 

Whenever Malfoy heard anything of Ginny -- or Harry didn't tidy away her tea-cup, or the lipstick she left here - he became awfully... weird. For one thing, he became very casual. Malfoy was the most formal person Harry knew, apart from when he was on his back with his legs spread. And he became more nonchalant, which Harry would have previously betted was not possible. Harry hesitated to call it jealousy. 

Harry's cock pressed insistently into the side of Malfoy's thigh.

"Potter," he said in disgust, looking down.

"What?" Harry said. "You started it." He rolled away onto his side and covered his midsection with the sheets. 

"Mmm," Malfoy said, "that's very true."

Harry closed his eyes and pretended to try and go to sleep.

"Want me to finish it?" Malfoy asked. His voice was low and husky and Harry could feel Malfoy looming over him, even as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Malfoy waited for a second before throwing himself down on the bed. His arm rested on Harry's prone form, and his knee bumped him too. As Harry took a peek, he could see Malfoy was sitting against the headboard with his legs spread, and his cock moving slowly between his fingers. 

"Malfoy," Harry groaned. He lay flat on his back and moved the sheets away. His cock was still hard from Malfoy's previous ministrations.

Malfoy glanced over at him, before straddling his crotch. Their pricks bumped together, and Malfoy grasped them, pulling them together.

"I wanna fuck you, Potter," Malfoy said. He leant down to kiss Harry, but Harry moved away. They hadn't exactly done that before.

"What?" Harry asked. Maybe he just wanted to be on top. He hoped. Nervous didn't really cover how he felt about Malfoy's cock in his arse. 

"Come on, Potter. I'll be careful."

"Really really careful?"

"Really really careful," Malfoy promised.

"And you'll stop if I say?"

Malfoy nodded. He gave their cocks a particularly hard pull and Harry arched his back.

"Will you let me?" Malfoy whispered.

Biting his lip, Harry nodded. He just had to hope that Malfoy wasn't doing this in some twisted revenge against Ginny. Despite having spent a lot of time with Malfoy by now, and trusting him somewhat, Harry wasn't that stupid. That Harry was going to get hurt, maybe not physically but mentally, was almost a given.

"Turn over," Malfoy ordered.

"I don't want to be on my hands and knees."

"You like me on my hands and knees."

"Different," Harry sniffed. "You like it too."

"Well, you might like it," Malfoy suggested. He let go of their pricks and moved between Harry's legs. 

"Might not."

"Please, Potter. I'm not going to do that... just trust me."

Harry snorted, but he rolled over anyway. Malfoy ran his hands down Harry's back, from his shoulder blades to cup his bum, and then tickle the back of his knees. Harry shivered. 

"Knees," Malfoy demanded, in a cool, confident voice which Harry swore was more convincing than Imperius.

Harry raised himself. His arms shook but he knew he was being ridiculous. After all, Malfoy did this on a regular basis and by all accounts seemed to love it. Quite often moaning at the top of lungs, in fact. 

Harry shivered as Malfoy placed kisses all the way down his spine, kissing each protuberance delicately. Slowly, Harry began to relax. As of the Ministry party, Malfoy seemed like a different person in comparison to the one Harry had known at school -- then again, they'd barely known each other, despite what they may have thought. Harry could trust Malfoy not to hurt him, at least not physically, which currently was the most pressing thing on his mind. The rest, the mess, would wait for another day, but possibly be ignored in favour of another fuck. 

Malfoy's kisses didn't stop when Harry's spine did though. Malfoy kept licking and kissing, down to where Harry's back became his arse, and then further.

He tried to twist and look at Malfoy. "What on earth are you doing?" he hissed.

He could imagine Malfoy's smirk as he said, "Just trust me."

Harry sighed, and his head fell forward onto the pillow. His elbows were sore from so much weight resting on them.

Malfoy returned to what he was doing, and Harry had a sudden flash of what he was going to do. Malfoy was literally doing to kiss his arse. He tensed, and felt Malfoy rub his legs and waist, trying to soothe him. To Harry's surprise it seemed to work. He relaxed, and let Malfoy lick along the crack of his arse.

After a few seconds, it began to feel good. He could feel his cock throbbing, re-hardening from when it had briefly softened. Then, Malfoy's tongue licked right across his hole. Harry let out a surprised gasp, and couldn't help but push back on the sensation. 

After that, Malfoy didn't hold back. After Harry's first moan, Malfoy licked and kissed at sucked at him until he was moaning and sweating and practically begging for something more.

Harry got what he asked for, as Malfoy's hand -- previously stroking his thigh -- moved backwards and pushed against his arse. It was cool and slick. Harry had no idea when Malfoy had got the lube out.

"Ready?"

Harry nodded hurriedly. He was beginning to see why Malfoy liked this... although Harry had never done that to him. If he could make Malfoy feel like he just had, it was clearly a mistake to have left that out of their sexual encounters so far. 

Quickly, Malfoy pushed his finger inside Harry. It was tight, Harry could feel Malfoy really having to push. He remembered what it had been like to begin with to put his fingers inside Malfoy. The sensation was new and unknown -- now it was just as novel to him to feel the sensations that were established with such familiarity. 

"All right?" Malfoy asked as his finger breached Harry entirely.

"Think so," Harry breathed.

"Good." The digit inside him began to move back and forth. Harry didn't know how to take the feelings -- it didn't exactly feel good, but it was by no means bad either. After a minute or so, Malfoy removed his finger, but it was immediately replaced by two. Carefully, and slowly, Malfoy prepared him. It didn't hurt, but still, it didn't feel good. Harry decided that this being fucked business probably wasn't for him. He pushed back on the fingers, more for Malfoy's benefit than his own.

"Turn over," Malfoy said shakily. His fingers pressed insistently into Harry's waist.

Harry flopped down onto the bed and rolled over.

Malfoy was immediately on top of him, kissing him. Harry didn't have the chance to feel weird about it, and tried to forget about where Malfoy's mouth had been. It wasn't an easy task considering how his arse and cock were throbbing.

"If you're going to do it... do it now," Harry said against his lips. His hands clutched at Malfoy's shoulders, his nails digging into the flesh. 

Malfoy kissed him once on the lips. Messily and wetly, before scrambling backwards and onto his knees. Harry spread his legs. Malfoy ran his palms along his thighs before arranging Harry how he wanted him. 

Grasping Harry's hips, Malfoy pulled him forwards. He lined his cock up with Harry's arse and pushed. Harry was grateful he didn't ask if he was sure again. He would have probably said no.

Malfoy's cock pushing into Harry hurt, he wasn't - and couldn't - deny that. But it was more of an ache, and it was kind of exhilarating in a strange way as well. The look on Malfoy's face made Harry want to tell him he could do this all day every day. He could do anything as long as he kept looking at Harry like that.

For those few moments, they were the only people in the world, and the only thing that mattered. 

Then, Malfoy was fully sheathed inside them, and their eyes caught. Malfoy's eyes were round and surprised, like he thought that this moment was never going to come. 

"Fuck me, Malfoy," Harry whispered.

Malfoy rocked his hips, and a bolt of pain flashed through Harry's lower half.

"Slowly," Harry warned.

"Course," Malfoy said. A blush rose on his cheeks. "Sorry."

Harry smiled through the pain. "It's er, okay."

"Can I..."

"Yeah."

Harry grabbed the sheets, ready to brace himself as Malfoy pulled out and pushed back in. He went slowly like he promised he would, and this time it didn't hurt. It ached. But it was turning into something quite enjoyable. Malfoy carried on pushing in and out slowly until Harry arched into Malfoy's thrusts, and suddenly, Malfoy hit the place that was the source of the most pleasure. 

Harry gasped, and Malfoy smirked down at him. Now Malfoy knew the right angle... Harry had no chance. His senses were overtaken by the feeling of Malfoy's cock brushing over his prostate continuously. His cock leaked as he was fucked, and with a gasping breath, Malfoy reached between them to hold it. Harry pushed his cock through the ring that Malfoy's fist made, fucking his hand in time with Malfoy's thrusts. 

"I'm coming," Harry moaned. Malfoy sped up both his thrusts and the hand which circled Harry's prick. 

He nodded hurriedly. "Me too."

Harry moaned, and with a particularly good twist of Malfoy's wrist, he came, his come spilling over the top of Malfoy's fist. 

He sagged against the mattress as Malfoy thrust a few last, hurried times into him. Harry lazily kissed along Malfoy's collar bone, before Malfoy buried his head under Harry's jaw. Malfoy came too, moaning helplessly into Harry's shoulder.

Malfoy rolled away, lying half on top of Harry. Harry felt around for his hand and got a squeeze in return. They soon fell to sleep.

It was only an hour before they both woke again; sleepily staggering to the shower to wash the dried come and sweat from their bodies.

Malfoy laughed as Harry shuffled uncomfortably down the stairs, and Harry hit him. Deservedly so, he thought.

"I better go," Malfoy sighed a bit later on, after he'd sat and watched Harry make the two of them toast. Harry thought it was hilarious that Malfoy had taken a liking to Marmite and took every opportunity to feed him it. Malfoy didn't look particularly enthused at the thought of leaving, and Harry found himself wishing he didn't have to leave. 

Harry nodded. He needed to get ready to go to the pub; he was due in a couple of hours. He didn't even want to contemplate the awkwardness of sitting on a hard wooden pub chair for a couple of hours. 

"Want me to heal you?" Malfoy asked. He sounded reluctant. "I think you've suffered enough."

"Nah," Harry said, with a blush on his cheeks. "Now you can imagine me sitting in the pub with Ron and Hermione and Ginny, squirming because of what you're done to me. I know you like that kind of thing, you perv."

Malfoy sighed. "You know me too well, Potter. And I don't think I'm the only perv here."

They caught each other's eyes and snickered.

There was a moment's silence as Malfoy got up, gathering his things from around the kitchen. "See you, Potter."

"Bye, Malfoy," Harry replied. Malfoy planted a quick, hard kiss on Harry's lips but disappeared before Harry could reciprocate. As the front door slammed, Harry was left with a smile on his face. That was the first time Malfoy had kissed him goodbye. 

Harry sat in his kitchen alone for a few minutes after Malfoy left. He made himself a cup of tea, and tried to get in the right mindset for seeing his girlfriend, and their best friends. Ginny wasn't due for a while. He'd have a quick lie down on the couch to try and sleep off the memory of Malfoy's kiss. 

Ginny was coming round in an hour or so, so they could head to The Leaky Cauldron together. She was early -- Harry was still napping on the couch when she arrived.

He awoke as she sat down next to him, her soft fingers running across his cheek. She brushed the lines of his jaw.

"Hey, sleepy," she said.

Harry yawned, stretching.

"Hi," he said.

She kissed his lips gently, just a peck. Harry turned away and sat up.

"Sorry, are we late?"

"Not yet," Ginny answered. "But you should probably get changed."

Harry glanced down at the t-shirt and jogging bottoms that he'd slung on when after his shower with Malfoy. He definitely needed to get changed. He should have before Ginny got here. What if she smelt Malfoy on him? He had his own smell -- Harry would swear that he could recognize it from miles away. 

"You're right, sorry."

She frowned. "It's okay, we've got plenty of time. Are you all right?"

Harry sighed. He was too defensive. There was nothing wrong, no need to apologise for such small things. It would just make her suspicious. "Sorry... just woke up, you know."

"Course. I'll wait down here. Tidy up maybe?"

"Right, okay. Thanks." He stood, trying not to wince, and stooping to kiss her cheek. He could taste the powder she'd put on her face, and the light perfume she'd sprayed. Such a contrast to the taste of Malfoy's shower scrub and his strong, naturally addictive smell.

When he came back down a couple of minutes later, Ginny had cleared all his dirty dishes away to the kitchen and was washing up.

"Gin, you don't need to do that."

"Well, you wouldn't would you?"

"I was waiting until there was enough to make it worth doing... stop, Gin."

"I'm nearly done."

Harry sighed. She seemed to think that it was her duty to make sure his house was clean, and tidy, and he was well fed. He was an adult, if he didn't do the washing up for two days, nothing was going to kill him.

"Right. Shall we go?" Ginny asked as she pulled off the rubber gloves and laid them down on the draining board.

Harry smiled. Enthusiasm. He had to find some from somewhere. He just wanted to sleep. He shouldn't have let Malfoy keep him up all night. Again. 

"Want me to Apparate us?" Harry asked. He took her hand in his.   
"Sure," Ginny replied, and she squeezed his hand. 

They appeared in the Apparition hub in the far corner of the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was warm from the fires which appeared to be lit constantly all year around. Hermione had once told him they weren't realfire, and the temperature was controlled by a regulated Warming Charm, but Harry thought that explanation took half of the fun out of it. It was magic.

"Harry!" Hermione called from a booth not too far away. "Ginny!"

Harry and Ginny joined Hermione and Ron, sliding into the booth. Harry bit his lip to avoid making a face at the awkwardness of the action. God, he was a pervert. He should have just let Malfoy heal him when he'd had the chance.

Hermione and Ron both had huge smiles on their faces.

"What's going on?" Harry asked suspiciously.

They glanced at each other and Ron nodded. 

Hermione held out her hand. On her ring finger was a shining gold band with a small gleaming diamond set in the centre. "We're engaged!" Hermione said.

Next to him, Ginny shrieked. "Oh Merlin, really?"

"No, it's a joke," Harry muttered. Ginny and Ron glared at him but Hermione was too busy fiddling in her bag to notice. He got a nudge -- a hard one - in the ribs for his comments. He wasn't speaking to Malfoy, he couldn't joke like that.

"Congratulations, it's such a lovely ring," Ginny cooed. She cradled Hermione's hand in hers, staring at the ring.

Oh, God. He was going to kill Ron for this.

"Congrats, mate," Harry said, sticking his hand out across the table.

Ron smiled and shook it. "Cheers."

"You never said anything," Harry said. 

Ron shrugged. "Just decided really. I was walking through Diagon Alley one day and saw the ring and I just wanted to give it to Hermione. Thought about it for a few days and well, I couldn't stop thinking about it, really. Just seemed like the right thing to do. So... I did."

"That's great. Let me buy you a drink to celebrate." He lowered his voice; "She's not pregnant, is she?"

"Harry!" Hermione scolded. "Don't be ridiculous. It'll be at least ten years before my career is stable enough to have a break for children."

"Oh," Ginny said. "You want to wait that long? I'd have them now if I could."

"Right, drinks," Harry said. He stood, and as he walked away, he could hear Hermione asking about Ginny's Quidditch career. He didn't want to hear her reply. He wanted Ginny to want a career. She could have an amazing few years on a Quidditch team if she got a spot. He wanted that for her, wanted her to get out and to have a life before they married and had kids. 

Hermione and Ron... they were different. 

When he returned, a tray of drinks levitating in front of him, the talk was still about weddings. He suspected there was a lot of this to come. Ginny and Hermione were in what looked to be a very deep conversation which Ron appeared to be drifting in and out of.

As he handed the drinks around, he caught snippets of the conversation. Ginny saying, "at my wedding...", "I want a huge wedding!" and "I think I want gold in my colour scheme, too." Neither Hermione nor Ron seemed to think it odd that Ginny was discussing her and Harry's wedding like it was a given. Harry was beginning to think that he was defective in some way. Here he was, sitting with his girlfriend who he loved, congratulating his two best friends on their engagement, and Harry was missing Malfoy.

This affair, or whatever it was, had to end -- and soon. It was taking over his life, and that wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be a distraction, brief and fun. But now, now Harry wanted it more than his real life. Ginny was his real life, not Malfoy. He was going to have to stop waiting for his real life to begin, and seize it with both hands.

: :

7th January, 2000

Malfoy sighed, as Harry dipped his finger into his belly button. Harry sat against the headboard of his bed as Malfoy lay next to him.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Do you fancy going out?"

"Going out... where?" Harry asked warily. They didn't often go out together. Once they'd gone out to get fish and chips from the shop down the road. Harry couldn't actually think of any other times.

Malfoy shrugged. He looked elegant doing that lying down, and Harry wasn't quite sure how he managed it. He tried, and Malfoy just frowned at him.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Nothing. Where did you want to go?"

Malfoy smirked. "I thought you could take me on a brief trip of some Muggle wonders." He rolled over to his stomach, licking Harry's thigh.

"Really?"

"As long as I don't have to touch or talk to any of them."

Harry made a noise of disgust. "Malfoy..."

"I know, I know. I'm a terrible person. Enlighten me?"

"Enlighten you about Muggles?" 

"I believe that is what I just said, yes, Potter. There is no need for repetition."

"You're such a dick." Harry sat up and slapped Malfoy on his bare arse. He yelped. "Get ready then."

Malfoy ran his hand over the skin where Harry could see a handprint forming. "You brute."

"I know," Harry said dryly. "I'm a terrible person."

Malfoy smirked at him, and rolled onto his back. "I think you should make it up to me." He dragged his hand down his chest, pausing to pinch his nipples briefly, arching into his own touch. His hand settled on his cock, half-hard but rapidly expanding as Malfoy touched himself.

Harry groaned. "I thought you wanted to go out?" Already he was kneeling on the bed in front of Malfoy, biting his lip as he watched. There was very little in life he preferred to do than watch Malfoy - fucking Malfoy - touching himself for Harry. 

Malfoy paused his hand for a moment, but didn't let go of his prick. Harry couldn't take his eyes off the swollen, reddened flesh between Malfoy's pale fingers. It just looked so wrong it was right.

"I do," Malfoy admitted. "But I also want a blow job." 

They stared at each other for a minute until Harry sighed. 

"Well," Harry said. "It's either a blow job now and we don't go out for like two hours, or we wait until we get home this evening."

"Home?" Malfoy asked, with a raised eyebrow. Harry had counted fourteen different types of eyebrow that Malfoy used on a regular basis. Each one expressed a different emotion, or different way of saying 'Potter, you are a twat'.

"Shut up," Harry said with a blush. "You know what I mean."

"Mmm," Malfoy said. He stroked himself once. "We do spend a disgusting amount of time in this bed, at homeas you describe it."

"That's what I meant," Harry said. "This bed. It's our home."

"Indeed."

Harry watched Malfoy stroke himself slowly. "Let's go out. You can do what ever you like to me later."

"That is a tempting offer. Not that it differs particularly to how our evenings normally pan out, you realise."

"I get it, I'm a slag."

Malfoy snorted. "You don't know the meaning of the word, Potter. You're just... eager. You're gagging for it."

"That sounds better. Marginally." Harry reached over to grab Malfoy's hand. He uncurled his fingers and placed his hand down on the bed. "Stop."

"Ooh forceful, I think I like it."

Harry blushed, and Malfoy got up, and walked over to the bathroom door. Harry watched as he walked over, his arse cheeks bobbing. Harry wanted to bite into the flesh.

"Where are you going?"

"Cold shower."

Harry shuddered. 

Twenty minutes later, Harry was sitting down in the kitchen with a pot of tea in front of him. Malfoy was still upstairs, probably doing his hair or something. He always took longer than Harry, who sometimes thought he didn't know how to shower properly as it took Malfoy about twice as long. 

He heard the shower stop just as the Floo went off. Harry's blood ran cold.

"Harry!" Ginny called from the living room.

Fucking hell, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"Ginny!" Harry yelled, hoping Malfoy would hear and not come down. God, he couldn't come down. Ginny couldn't find out. This wasn't supposed to be how it turned out. "Kitchen."

He glanced down at the tea pot and cups he'd set out and vanished them away quickly. Ginny would notice the cups were set for two, when he was supposed to be the only one in the house.

Ginny walked through.

"What you doing here?" he blurted out.

Her eyes narrowed as she took in his newly showered appearance. "I left my purse here yesterday. It was in the living room." She held up the offending purse.

"Oh," Harry said with a strained smile. Surely she could hear his heart beating in his chest. It felt like it would bruise where his heart was hitting his ribs. She had to be able to hear it. Harry could hear little else. "Glad you got it."

"Why didn't you drop it round when you saw I'd left it?"

"Er... I didn't notice it," he said with a shrug. "Had an early night and wasn't really in the living room much. Sorry."

"You didn't seem tired when I left," she noted.

Harry shrugged. "Well, I was. Okay?"

There was a pause. "I suppose. I better go."

Harry's heart leapt. "Oh, so soon?"

"Mum's waiting for me. We're going into Diagon Alley to pick up some new boots for Quidditch. I've got my trial at the Holyhead Harpies next week, haven't I?"

"Yeah, I know you do. You know you don't need the new boots though. You'll be great."

"Mmm," Ginny said. She didn't believe a word he was saying. "Yeah, that's what we thought last year, wasn't it? But there's some nice ones in Quality Quidditch, and I think we'll check out the new shop near Knockturn Alley, too."

Harry could tell she was still suspicious of something. Her eyes kept darting around the kitchen, trying to spot something out of place. Harry could only be thankful that it wasn't last week she'd come around when Malfoy had decided to strip in the kitchen and leave a trail of Harry's clothes leading to his bedroom. They'd only made it to the stairs. Harry still had the bruise on his arse. When Ginny had noticed, he'd told her it had been a bump in a Quidditch tussle with Ron. The lies just kept building up. 

Technically, it had happened, it just hadn't left that particular bruise. 

"Right," she said. "I should be off. I'm seeing you tomorrow, yes?"

Harry smiled and nodded. He stood and kissed her on the lips briefly. Her lip stuff tasted sickly sweet of strawberries.

"You are, indeed. I'll cook, yeah?"

"I don't want a fry-up again, Harry."

Harry nodded. A lump appeared in his throat. The kitchen door opened briefly, and he saw a flash of a Malfoy smirk. He put his arm around Ginny and guided her through the other door, the one that led to the living room.

"See you tomorrow, Gin."

She leant up and kissed him again before she Floo-ed away.

Before the green flames had died down Malfoy was behind him, his tongue on Harry's neck, pulling Harry around to face him. 

"I quite like your fry-ups," Malfoy muttered.

Then, Harry felt a tongue against his lips and he opened his mouth. He wondered whether Malfoy could taste the strawberry of Ginny's kiss. He suspected he could. Malfoy kissed him so hard and long that Harry felt as if Ginny's kiss was being erased from his lips. Certainly she never kissed him like this. Malfoy tried to consume him, devour him. Draco Malfoy kissed and fucked like he fought - with every ounce of his strength, like someone was out to get him and this was his last moment on earth. Harry craved it, and gave in to it.

He could introduce Malfoy to the joys of the Muggle world another day.

: :

18th January, 2000

The day that Ginny told him her news, her amazing, fucking fantastic, out of this world news, was a Tuesday. Harry had just collapsed on the couch after a long day being battered by hexes and curses that he was learning to cast and defend against.

"What?" Harry was certain that he hadn't just heard that.

Ginny let out a small, high-pitched scream. "I've been signed, Harry! The Holyhead Harpies want me to play for them!"

He pulled Ginny into a hug. "That's amazing, Gin, fucking... well done."

She squeezed him tightly. He could hardly believe it -- not because she wasn't amazing at what she did, she was. It was just unbelievable news. It was good news, though. He hated himself for having to repeat in his head that he didn't want to play professional Quidditch. He was an Auror through and through. He didn't know if he could stand the rejection that Ginny had been through in that first session of trials, just a year before.

They separated. "When does training start?" 

"As soon as I finish my notice for the Ministry! So two weeks if I go and tell them today."

"Well go on, then," Harry said. "Go. Come back all dressed up and we'll go out for a meal to celebrate."

She grinned. "Really? How dressed up?"

With a slightly strained chuckle, Harry replied, "As dressed up as you like. I'll even wear a tie."

She squealed again and took him back in her arms. "You look fit in a tie!"

Harry snorted and they separated again. She turned away, back to the Floo, and Harry couldn't help but grab her bum, cradling the curvy flesh in the palms of his hands.

"Harry!" she said, sounding scandalized, but Harry knew if she turned to look at him there would be a smirk on her face. "See you later!"

"Congratulations again," Harry called as the Floo burst into life, and Ginny vanished from the room. As the flames glared green, Harry had the sudden thought that Ginny was going to be away a lot now for games. Malfoy could... no. He couldn't be planning his affair around Ginny's away games. There shouldn't be an affair at all. He prayed that next time he saw Malfoy, Malfoy would end it. 

: :

3rd February, 2000

Today was one of the rare occasions on which Harry and Malfoy actually arranged to meet. Usually, Harry would know when Malfoy was coming and half expect him just to walk through the door, slamming it behind him. It made arranging things with Ginny awful, but they usually saw each other during the day, or Harry had his dinner at the Burrow. Plus, Harry suspected that Malfoy liked the danger in it. But tonight, they'd actually arranged to go out. Malfoy had heard about a restaurant in the area near Harry and decided they'd go. Which meant Harry had made the reservation, got loads of Muggle money changed from Galleons and had to iron a shirt.

There was a bang. It was Malfoy.

"Upstairs," Harry yelled.

Harry listened as he heard Malfoy run up the stairs to greet him. 

His bedroom door opened.

"Hi," Harry said, looking at Malfoy in the mirror he stood in front of. He was trying to work out whether his jeans and shirt looked appropriate. Looking at Malfoy, they didn't Malfoy was clothed from head to toe in clothes that looked brand new, clung in all the wrong places as they made him look as fit as fuck, and Harry was already getting hard, and fuck Harry had lost his train of thought.

"Hello," Malfoy said. Harry watched as he came up behind him, Malfoy's arms circling his waist.

"Do I look like a twat?"

Malfoy ruffled his hair. "You always look like a twat."

Harry sighed. "Really?"

"No, you tosser, you look fine. Good, you look good."

Harry smiled at his reflection. "Thanks. You scrub up pretty well, as well."

"I scrub up amazingly," Malfoy said, as he pinched Harry on the arse.

"My mistake."

They looked at themselves in the mirror for a few seconds, before Harry spun around to face Malfoy.

"Hi," Harry said again. 

"Hello to you, too," Malfoy said, and put his lips on Harry's. They were warm and soft and oh so familiar. 

Despite how nice Malfoy was being, and how much it made Harry want to whisk him away to some far off place to feed grapes to him, Ginny was always in the back of his mind. This affair had gone on long enough, and someone had to end it. It seemed like that had come to Harry. Soon it would come to the point where either Harry or Malfoy would want more from the relationship -- Harry knew he was close to that point himself. And that couldn't happen. He was going to marry Ginny one day, and the day a Malfoy came out as gay and didn't continue the family line was the day Harry quit the Aurors to become chief of the merpeople in the Black Lake. 

So today was the day. After their meal, Harry was going to tell Malfoy that it was the end. They'd have one last happy memory before it all went to shit.

"Stop thinking, Potter," Malfoy demanded, his lips still against Harry.

Harry sighed, and Malfoy backed off. He folded his arms, looking expectantly at Harry.

"Nothing."

"You're an awful liar, Potter."

"Not lying," he lied.

Malfoy drew in a long breath through his nostrils, and backed up to sit on Harry's bed. Their home. 

"We're not going out until you talk."

Harry was surprised. They didn't often have conversations -- at least not serious ones. Anything important tended to be tacked onto a discussion about tea or owls or work before they quickly Apparated away. 

"Really?" he asked dubiously.

"Yes."

"You're not going to like it," Harry warned.

"That, I highly suspect," Malfoy said. His eyes looked sad. 

"It's..." Harry flailed, throwing his hands in the air, "...us."

"Us," Malfoy repeated as if it was a foreign word.

Harry nodded. "It can't... we can't go on like this, can we?"

"In what way?"

"In what way, what?"

"Is there something wrong?" Malfoy asked, through gritted teeth. He really didn't want to be asking that question. But he was making himself, for Harry. Harry ached. Why did this have to be so hard? Why couldn't he have been content with Ginny? When did Malfoy become such a huge part of his life?

Harry walked over and sat next to Malfoy. Their thighs brushed, and their fingers intertwined. Malfoy squeezed, hard enough to hurt. The pain anchored Harry to the world. Their world.

It was time to bring up the unmentionable. "You're engaged," Harry whispered. The grip tightened. "And I've got Ginny. We can't keep doing this."

"Why?" Malfoy asked quietly. He didn't deny his fiancée.

"We just can't. You know that. Unless... you'll break your engagement... and I'll break up with Ginny. We could get away just the two of us. Just think about how amazing it would be. Just the two of us forever." Harry's heart leapt with the thought of them getting away from it all -- the idea of every day forever with Malfoy just blew him away and stole his breath.

"I know," Malfoy said. "It would. But you know we can't."

"Why?"

"Can you imagine your whole life being about the worst thing you ever did?" Malfoy asked.

"What?" Harry glanced to his side. Malfoy's eyes were closed shut and his fists were clenched, he yanked his hand from Harry. He seized his sleeve, pulling it up, revealing the blackened flesh that was his Dark Mark.

"This, Potter," he said. He raised his arm until it was level with Harry's eyes. "This. This is why we can't. Not only would people assume I had you under some kind of dark spell or some bollocks, they'd think you were mad. My name is worth nothing and I would pull you down into the gutter, too." He held his hand up as Harry made to speak. "No, Potter. Let me finish. I know you think you wouldn't care, but you would. It would be hard, so so so hard. And it's up to me to fix what my mother, father and I fucked up. And I can't do that without someone to finish it -- a son or daughter. And that's not even starting on the whole issue with us both being men, is it?"

"I know," Harry interrupted. "I know. This is just all the same stuff that's going through my head as well. But, I don't want to. Do you?"

There was a few moments of silence before Malfoy sighed. "No. I must need my head testing, but I don't."

"So... what do we do?"

"We make the most of the next few months, or however long this lasts."

"I'm not ready to give up yet," Harry admitted.

"But you know this is all it will ever be. Just us. Us and this bed."

Harry started to pull the tie from around Malfoy's neck. "No meals out."

Malfoy shook his head, and manoeuvred his fingers around Harry's to help. "I don't think so."

"This is shit."

"It really is."

: :

10th April, 2000

The front door slammed. It was Malfoy. He only ever came through the front door: Harry had no idea why. He'd stopped knocking months ago. Somehow, Malfoy had never come in when Ginny was here and they were having dinner, or Ron was having a beer with him after a long day at the Ministry. Harry didn't ask, but Malfoy knew somehow.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Making a cake."

Harry cracked the last egg into his Mickey Mouse mug and began to whisk the mixture with a fork.

"Any particular reason?"

"It's Teddy's birthday tomorrow."

"Should I be jealous?" Malfoy slid into one of the chairs around the kitchen table and began to look through the items on the table. There was a Tesco bag lying on the wood, too. 

Harry snorted. "I've mentioned Teddy loads of times, you dick. He's my godson, remember? He's two tomorrow."

"Ahh," Malfoy said. "Indeed you have. My mistake. So you're going to torture the poor child with your attempts at cooking?"

"You love my cooking," Harry reminded him. He poured a small amount of the whisked egg into the bowl of creamed sugar and butter and began to beat it together.

"You do make a mean fry-up," Malfoy admitted. "Need any help?"

Harry looked up from his mixing. "Sure, you can measure out the flour if you like."

Malfoy picked up the packet of flour from the table and headed over to the side of the table where Harry stood. The scales were next to him. 

"How much do I need to measure?"

"It's in the recipe book," Harry said. He nodded his head towards the book on the other side of Malfoy. Malfoy picked it up and skimmed down the list of ingredients.

"Eight ounces," Malfoy said with a nod, and opened the packet with nimble fingers. Harry always ended up ripping the packet. He had no patience. Harry watched as the flour was carefully poured into a clean mixing bowl. "Done."

Harry smiled. "Thanks." He took the bowl from Malfoy and started to snicker as he brushed his hand across his face, leaving a trail of white flour across the skin. 

"What?" Malfoy asked warily. "Did I do it wrong?"

Harry's heart leapt. "No. No, of course not. You've just got something on your face." He placed his bowl down next to the measured flour. He wiped his hands on a tea towel, before raising his hand to wipe Malfoy's forehead. Harry brushed his thumb over the smudge, wiping it away.

"Thanks," Malfoy said. His voice sounded rough. Harry flicked his eyes down to glance at Malfoy's lips. Malfoy licked them, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. They glistened, and Harry wanted to take Malfoy's plump bottom lip between his teeth.

"You're welcome," Harry said. He leant in closer to Malfoy.

"Kiss me," Malfoy muttered. Their lips were only a few inches apart.

"You kiss me," Harry said. He could feel Malfoy's warm breath against his face.

In the end, Harry didn't know who gave in. He suspected it was a bit of both, and their lips came together, gently brushing and teasing. The kiss was slow and delicate. Harry savoured every lick of Malfoy's gentle tongue. The kiss felt significant some how, and Harry never wanted to forget a moment of it.

They broke apart a couple of minutes later, and as they did, there was a gasp.

Both Harry and Malfoy's head whipped around to the noise.

"Neville!" Harry said. "What... fuck. It's not what you think..."

Malfoy didn't look hurt at his words. He didn't.

"S-sorry, Harry," Neville said. He looked at his shoes. "Shouldn't have come over without checking first, should I? Will teach me next time, won't it?" Without looking at Harry and Malfoy again he shuffled from the room, his cheeks flaming.

Harry looked at Malfoy quickly, who shrugged. "Follow him, you twat!"

With a huff, Harry did. He ran to the living room, where he assumed Neville had Floo-ed to. He stood in front of the fire.

"Nev..." Harry said cautiously.

"What on earth are you doing?" Neville asked softly.

Harry wrung his hands together. "I... I don't know."

"Is this the first time?"

"... no."

"Jesus, Harry!" Neville exclaimed. The pink across his cheeks was now from anger rather than embarrassment. "What about Ginny? Are you... are you gay?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "It's just... I don't know what it is, all right. I know it's stupid, and ridiculous, and it's fucking Malfoy, okay? I know."

"Are you going to break up with Ginny?" Neville asked.

"No." Harry knew the answer to that question straight away. One day he'd marry Ginny. And Malfoy would marry the pretty blonde girl his mother had found for him. It wasn't fair. It was his life, why wasn't he allowed to live it the way he planned, rather than everyone else?

"Are you going to break up with Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, Neville."

"You have to," he said. "I'll tell Ginny."

"Neville!"

"It's wrong Harry. If you want to be with bloody Draco Malfoy, be with him. But don't mess Ginny around while you're doing it. She doesn't deserve that."

Harry was silent.

"Harry?"

Harry nodded, and without another word, Neville Floo-ed away.

Two seconds later, Malfoy was behind him, his hands on Harry's hips. "We're not breaking up."

"Malfoy..." Harry begged. He stared at the photograph of him and Ginny on the mantelpiece. Ginny glared at him, while photo-Harry blushed and rubbed his glasses on his t-shirt. Probably to get a better look, the dirty git.

"Lie."

"We can't keep doing this!" 

Malfoy's tongue slid down Harry's neck, then he took Harry by the hand, turning him around.

"Come on, I've mixed in all the egg now. Show me what to do with the flour."

And what was Harry supposed to do after that? He followed Malfoy through to the kitchen, allowing himself to be lead, hand in hand.

He showed Malfoy how to mix the flour (not difficult, he had to admit) and how much vanilla essence to add. As they waited for the cake to cook so they could ice it with all the sugary confectionary Harry had bought from the supermarket, Malfoy fucked him on the stairs. It was almost violent in its execution and, to Harry, felt like the last day of the world. 

: :

16th April, 2000

"I've been thinking, Potter," Malfoy said as he lounged across the couch. Harry turned from where he was sitting on the floor, flicking through his Auror spell books. His final exams and assessments were in a few weeks, after a long year of training.

"Oh oh," Harry said. "Should I be worried?"

Malfoy screwed up his nose slightly. "Possibly."

Harry sighed, but he didn't mean it. "Go on then, what are you thinking about?"

"I think we should go away."

"Away?"

"To Paris," Malfoy said, a smile brightening his face. "I haven't been in such a long time."

"I've never been abroad," Harry admitted. "But I thought we said we weren't going to do things like this... go out together."

With a smirk, Malfoy said, "I know. Just this once? I can show you... the sights."

Harry looked at Malfoy. This was probably going to be the only time this was going to be possible -- a once in a lifetime chance. One final reckoning. Harry hoped not. He shut his book and turned to face Malfoy properly. "We'd leave the hotel then?"

"Occasionally," Malfoy said. "We could stay here and shag for a week. We can go out for meals, and see the museums and go for walks. And fuck me, I can taste the pain au chocolat already."

"A week?" Harry's insides chilled. "I couldn't get away for a week."

Malfoy made a noise of disgust. "Of course you could. Just imagine it, Potter. Imagine how much fun it could be..."

Harry could imagine exactly what it would be like, and that was the point. "I guess we could schedule it for a week where Ginny is out of the country. She's got a three week tour in Australia in the middle of May. I think she goes on the 10th. Make a long weekend of it?"

"That's a whole month away," Malfoy pouted. 

"We could make it five days," he suggested recklessly. He'd be missed, but it would be okay. And... maybe they would get found out by someone other than Neville. Maybe they could come out completely and be together. No, that was ridiculous. He had heard of Malfoy's impending engagement with a girl called Astoria from Hogwarts, but they'd never spoken of it apart from that one argument a couple of months ago. 

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Deal." He rolled onto his back, leaving Harry staring at him. "I'll book it then."

"Do I get any say in anything?"

There was a pause. "No. I'm quite aware of your taste, and apart from the foresight you had in taking up withme, it is awful. I will pick. It shall be a surprise." He said the last word like it was a bad thing.

"Oh," Harry said with a smile. "Okay. Looking forward to it."

"You fucking better be."

: :  
10th May, 2000

"Have you got the Muggle French money?" Malfoy asked.

Harry patted his bag. "I have."

"Did you remember the Portkey home?"

Holding out the paper weight, which had been in his pocket, Harry replied, "I have."

"How about the phrase book?"

"I have," Harry sighed.

Malfoy shot him a sly look which Harry didn't see. "The handcuffs?"

"I... the what? Really?"

Malfoy laughed. "You're such a deprived child. And no."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, Malfoy. I'm ready. You've already been through my bag, and my list and your list. It'll be fine. Whatever we don't have we can buy there anyway."

"That's not the point," Malfoy pouted.

"Of course it is," Harry laughed. 

"I thought you liked my lists."

"I do," Harry replied. "They're amazing."

"You're lying."

Harry paused. "A little bit."

Malfoy made a noise of disgust. He held out a scratchy pink scarf that Harry had to assume was their Portkey out to Paris. Harry held onto the end of it, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the soft skin between Malfoy's thumb and forefinger. Malfoy gave him a soft smile in return -- a smile Harry liked to think was reserved only for him -- and he knew he was forgiven. 

"What time are we supposed to -- "

They were quickly ported away. The sensation was not one which Harry could define -- all he knew was that he didn't like it, and it still made him feel ill. Next to him, he heard as Malfoy land, on his feet the git, and Harry fell onto his knees. He knew without looking that his knees would be scraped.

There was a snort from next to him. "Oh... Potter."

Malfoy pulled him up by the elbow.

"Never got the hang of that," Harry said sheepishly. His cheeks felt like they were burning.

"I suppose not everyone can be graceful," Malfoy conceded. His eyes sparkled, and Harry knew not to take his teasing too seriously by now.

After that, Malfoy led Harry from the Portkey point in a conspicuously grubby looking charity shop in the middle of Paris, through a maze of streets which lead them to their hotel.

The slow walk he and Malfoy took through Paris was a perfect introduction to the city. Harry had never been one to particularly appreciate architecture, but even he had to admit that the streets were beautiful.

As they walked, the unfamiliar language wrapped itself around Harry, the sounds rushing over him as he tried vainly to make some sense out of the words.

"Do you understand all this?" Harry muttered.

Malfoy shrugged. "Most of it. It's been a while since I've properly studied the language, or visited to be honest, so I'm probably a little rusty."

"That's ridiculously hot." Harry squeezed Malfoy's hand tightly.

Malfoy just chuckled. "Says you, Mr. Parseltongue." They shared a heated look, their gazes meeting before they had to look away.

A few minutes later, the smell of fresh fragrant coffee hit Harry like a brick wall. "Oh, fuck, that smells good. Do you want to grab one?"

"Sure," Malfoy agreed, and they headed into the café. "We're not far from the hotel at all now, though."

Harry shrugged. "One coffee won't hurt, will it?"

"I suppose not. The crème brûlée I'm going to make you try may put you in a sugar coma, though."

"My favourite kind," Harry noted.

They sat down at a table near the window -- mainly so Harry could sit and watch the world go by. 

"Are we having the crème brûlée, then?" Harry asked, glancing quickly at the Café Charlot menu that Malfoy held.

"I think so," Malfoy said.

A minute or two later, a waiter came over to take their order. He glanced at their intertwined hands and smiled.

Malfoy recited their order, and Harry vaguely recognized some of the words he said.

"It's dead sexy when you talk like that," he commented, flashing a cheeky smile at Malfoy.

"Oh, right," Malfoy said, his voice amused. "I'll keep that in mind."

"So will I," Harry replied, waggling his eyebrows.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but was stopped from making a rude retort by a couple walking past their table.

A couple of minutes later, their food and drinks arrived, and Harry dug in quickly. The first spoonful of pudding on his tongue caused a loud moan.

"Tell me you've had this before," Malfoy begged.

Harry nodded. "Not this good though."

Malfoy smiled. "Good. The coffee's pretty nice as well."

Harry took a sip -- it was good, but needed more sugar. He stirred in a couple of spoonfuls from the pot on the table.

About an hour later, after another cup of coffee, Harry yawned. "Can we go to the hotel now?"

"Of course."

"I'll just pay, then," Harry said, pushing himself to his feet.

"Hurry up," Malfoy insisted, "I've been waiting for you to say you wanted to leave since you started sucking your spoon."

Harry laughed. Malfoy was insatiable. "It was good," he said, biting his lip in the way he knew Malfoy liked.

Malfoy moaned and covered his face with his hand. "Go, Potter."

Harry did as he was told.

As it turned out, Malfoy was very right about the vicinity of their hotel, it was barely ten minutes from the hotel.

"Have you stayed here before?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No," he replied. "I always saw it when my mother and I would visit the area, and wanted to stay. I thought seeing as now it's my choice, it would be a good idea. What do you think?"

Harry smiled. "It looks nice."

"I think so." Malfoy took Harry's hand in his and Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"Inside, then?" Harry asked.

The hotel itself was beautiful -- it was unlike anything Harry had seen before, but he knew it was nothing compared to what Malfoy was used to staying in. After all, it was Muggle rather than Wizarding and Wizarding hotels were all rather extravagant.

As they were shown to their room, Harry could feel the odd looks he and Malfoy were given. Not because they were two men - Harry was fairly certain that Malfoy had chosen the Marais district because of its gay scene, as it was called. No, it was because of their lack of luggage. Harry cursed himself for not having remembered to unshrink the bags he'd packed and placed in his pockets. 

Harry watched as Malfoy thanked the man in a French tongue and accent he couldn't help envy. The door was opened for them, and the man disappeared almost straight away.

"Come on," Malfoy said. 

Harry let himself be led into their room. As he looked around the place that was actually going to be theirs for the next five days, he found himself speechless and a lump in his throat.

"Well? Did I choose all right?" Malfoy asked. Harry recognized the note of anxiety in Malfoy's voice.

"Brilliant," Harry said. "Brilliant. Now how about we christen this bed?"

Malfoy grinned at him, advancing on him until Harry had backed up enough to feel the bed behind his knees. He sat down quickly.

"This is one soft bed," Harry said, smoothing his hand across the cool blue sheets.

"It better be," Malfoy said. "We're going to be spending that much time in it."

Harry laughed. "Oh. Are we?"

Malfoy nodded. "Part of the holiday I'm afraid. No getting out of it. Sex at least twice a day."

"Only twice?" Harry laughed. "What about the shags in the bath and that arm chair and oh, maybe the lift?"

"How did I forget to include those?" Malfoy asked, the false wonder in his voice making Harry smile.

He fell back against the bed, spreading his arms out. Malfoy clambered on top of him, straddling his hips.

"Thank you," Malfoy said.

"What for?"

"Just... for coming with me."

"My pleasure," Harry said, and arched up into Malfoy's touch, his lips parting for a kiss. Malfoy didn't fail to provide, pressing his lips to Harry's. 

They didn't speak (coherently) for quite a while after that.

: :

Over the next few days, Malfoy showed Harry the sights of Paris by day and night. He found himself woken up by a wet mouth more often than not, and a mouth-watering breakfast of crusty baguette, croissants and hot, sweet coffee. They lunched at cafes across the city, and ate dinner from each other's fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

With every action Harry could feel the clock ticking, a huge sense of foreboding looming over them.

The first day, Malfoy had shown him around the very heart of Paris, taking a walk through to see Notre Dame, the Tuileries and the through the Place de la Concorde and up to the Arc de Triumphe all in one day.

Later that evening, after a lovely meal, they walked up the Eiffel Tower. This, Harry had been particularly excited for. When he was younger, Paris and the image of the Eiffel Tower was forever burned into his brain asromantic, with Aunt Petunia desperate to go there for Valentines Day. 

Harry stared up at the huge structure, trying to take in every inch of the intricate metal. Night time had begun to set in, and the lights decorating the tower were switched on. Harry had never seen anything like it.

He saw Malfoy looking at him curiously, and he tried to drag up some words, but came woefully short.

"It's..."

Malfoy nodded at him. His blond hair fell into his eyes, and Harry brushed the strands away. He could do that here. Touch Malfoy in public -- hold his hand and Christ, even talk to him in public without it making headline news.

"Yeah, I know," Malfoy said.

"Can we walk up it?" Harry asked.

"Course," Malfoy said.

They made their way through the entrance, handing over the money as they came to the front of the queue.

"How high is it?" Harry whispered.

"You don't need to be quiet, it's not a library," Malfoy said. "I believe it is about 275 metres to the top."

"Wow."

"Indeed."

"How on earth do you remember that?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Some of us do not have the memories of goldfish."

Harry snorted. "Do we climb the whole way?"

"No, there are lifts as well."

"Oh," Harry said. "I wanted to walk it."

"You won't be saying that after the first set of steps," Malfoy pointed out.

"I will," Harry said, flexing his muscles slightly.

Malfoy smiled at him like he was a child pretending to be a grown up. Harry elbowed him in the ribs. 

Harry hadn't known there were exhibits and shops up the tower, but as he and Malfoy got nearer and nearer to the top, the more impatient he got to just be able to enjoy the view. Although he had bought a rubber shaped like the Eiffel Tower. And he thought maybe they could have a cheeky kiss at the top, too. He couldn't go to Paris and not have a French kiss at the top of the Eiffel Tower. 

Not that he'd told Malfoy of his plan. He didn't suppose it would be that difficult to accost him. 

"Potter, you're shaking."

"I'm cold."

"It's not cold."

"Fine. I'm excited."

"Potter..."

"What?"

"Nothing," Malfoy said, shaking his head. They were at the top now. Harry barely noticed where he was going as they waited to go through.

The cool air hit Harry's face, startling him. He looked around.

"Oh."

Malfoy smiled sadly. "It's not that great up here," he admitted. "I didn't want to burst your bubble."

"The view's nice," Harry said.

"Gorgeous," Malfoy agreed.

"There's a lot of people," Harry pointed out as he moved closer to Malfoy to let somebody by.

"Let's go closer to the edge," Malfoy suggested. 

Harry let Malfoy lead him across the space. They leant on the barrier, looking out at Paris sparkling beneath them. The stars were sparkling in the dark sky, and the air was crisp. 

"Thank you for bringing me," Harry said. He rested his head on Malfoy's shoulder, and stared across the city.

"You're welcome," Malfoy said. 

The next day, Malfoy insisted that the Louvre needed a day all for itself, and Harry had to concede that he was right. The place was breathtaking. There seemed to be so much to do and not enough time to do it all in. And it almost seemed like Malfoy intended to wear them out, making the most of every minute they had together. Harry only hoped that there would be one day they could just relax and eat and have sex. 

It took until the day before they left for that day to come. Despite being tired, Harry had been having an amazing time with Malfoy -- he'd half expected for one of them to start up a huge row at some point. It still didn't make sense to Harry that they got on so well now -- most of the time. 

Paris was an amazing city, but Harry knew he would never be able to come back unless it was with Malfoy. Nothing, and no one, had a chance of living up to the impression this holiday had left on Harry. It felt like a betrayal to admit it.

It was just after Harry had returned to the room with two cups of coffee that Malfoy told him his news. 

"What?" he asked. "Sorry, I think I misheard you."

Malfoy sighed. "You didn't."

"You've set a date?" He felt sick, physically sick. 

Malfoy inclined his head marginally. "My mother and Astoria have... yes."

"Oh. Oh right."

"Look, Potter, I'm sorry... I just had to tell you. I only just got the owl."

Harry glanced at the sheet of parchment which lay on the quilt of their bed, next to Malfoy.

"Can I read it?"

Malfoy held it out, and Harry read the words himself. Each one confirming the news felt like a stab in the back.

"Oh."

"I didn't think it would be this soon," Malfoy said quietly.

"Right."

They looked at each other in silence for a few moments before Harry sat on the bed as well. 

"This holiday," Harry realised. "It was because you knew it was coming, right? The date." He said it as if it was a dirty word.

"I suspected," Malfoy confirmed hesitantly.

"So this was like some last little dirty weekend before you go off and get married?" Harry asked. It didn't seem important to him that soon enough he'd be planning to do the same thing with Ginny. Ron and Hermione's wedding was in six months, and his and Ginny's would probably follow in a year. Asking and getting an affirmative yes wasn't done yet... but Harry knew there wouldn't be a problem. Ginny loved him. 

"After tomorrow, it's over?" Harry asked. He felt sick. He placed his hand against his stomach in an effort to stabilize himself.

"Yes," Malfoy said. There was not a hint of a waver in his voice.

"Then... we should make the most of today," Harry said.

Malfoy grasped his arm, pulling him around. He spread his legs as he shuffled backwards on the bed. The bed covers bunched up behind him.

"Yes," Malfoy said. "Yes."

Harry climbed on top of Malfoy, straddling his thighs, before kissing him, the kiss quickly becoming fast and passionate and almost violent as the gravity of their situation finally struck them. 

Harry licked along Malfoy's lips, pushing between them, and through his teeth as he sought out a partner to duel with. Malfoy's mouth was hot and wet and eager and pulling, sucking him in. His kisses and touches were like a drug and Harry was addicted. He didn't know how he was going to get through this. How he was going to get through without Malfoy.

"Clothes off," Harry muttered into his mouth, rolling to the side. He pulled at Malfoy's shirt. His fingers fumbled over the buttons, his hands were shaking so much. He managed to open most, but some had to be pulled. The buttons pinged off and bounced across the room.

The only sound was the loud, shaking breaths from both of them.

Harry pulled the belt from Malfoy's trousers quickly, and inched his trousers down quickly. 

"I fucking love it when you go naked under your trousers," Harry muttered, as he ran his hand over Malfoy's hard cock.

Malfoy moaned, thrusting his prick towards Harry.

Harry wasted no time in sucking it into his mouth, running his tongue down the long vein, and dipping into the slit in the tip. Malfoy moaned, loudly, as the head of his cock hit the back of Harry's throat and he swallowed. For a moment, Harry simply rested there, revelling in the feel of Malfoy's cock in his mouth, the weight and feel of it filling him. He breathed in the scent of him, never ever wanting to forget what this felt like. 

"Fuck me, Potter," Malfoy whined. He pulled Harry in closer to him. It suddenly seemed imperative to have every inch of skin possible touching Malfoy's.

To Harry, it felt like Malfoy was as desperate for this as he was. Harry quickly pulled Malfoy's trousers off, then quickly shucked off his own top and bottoms. 

He drank in the sight of Malfoy lying back on their bed, naked and hard and waiting for him. He looked gorgeous, all pale hard lines against the deep blue of the bed covers. Harry wanted nothing more than to be part of him, to consume him and never let him go.

Harry crouched at the end of the bed, staring at Malfoy, memorizing every imperfection, every line and curve. His gaze rested on the Dark Mark. Without meaning to, Harry leant over him, licking across the tattoo. Malfoy's gasp was surprised and aroused, and Harry licked again before pressing a final kiss against it.

Malfoy pressed a jar of lubricant into Harry's hand. Quickly coating his fingers in the slippery gel, Harry pushed one, two, three inside Malfoy until he was pushing back on the digits, gasping as Harry brushed against his prostate. 

"Just do it," Malfoy begged. "Please, Harry."

"Draco..." Harry breathed, and lined himself up with Malfoy's arse quickly before pushing all the way in in one quick, hard thrust.

Harry ran his fingers over Malfoy's thighs as he looked down at their joined bodies before pulling his legs over his shoulders. 

With a groan, Harry began to thrust into Malfoy, slowly to begin with before getting harder and faster with every whispered instruction from Malfoy's lips. 

"Touch yourself," Harry gasped.

Malfoy shook his head. "No... going to come just like this. Just on your cock. Just keep... oh God yessss."

He came with a hiss, his back arched and toes screwed up.

Harry couldn't keep his eyes off him as Malfoy's face contorted in pleasure.

"I'm going to come," Harry moaned.

Malfoy nodded. He dug his fingers into Harry's arse, pulling him further inside his arse. "Come for me, Harry. Come."

And Harry did, his shoulders shaking from the force of it. He lay down on top of Malfoy afterwards, his head resting on Malfoy's damp chest. Malfoy's fingers threaded through his hair. If Malfoy heard Harry sniffing, or noticed him wipe his face, he didn't say. Neither Harry did mention Malfoy doing the same.

The next day, they didn't speak as they prepared for the Portkey, and when they landed back at Harry's house, Malfoy grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him, long and hard before leaving without a word. 

And then, that was the end of it all.

Or so it seemed. 

: :

7th June, 2024

Harry was at in his kitchen, drinking a cup of tea, the nearly full pot sitting in front of him when the front door slammed shut.

He frowned. There were very few people who used his front door rather than the Floo and not one who walked in without knocking. Not any more. Not for a very long time.

Silently, he stood, and pulled out his wand. Better to be safe than sorry. He stood on one side of the door frame, his wand held close as he waited for who ever this intruder was to enter the kitchen.

They did, not ten seconds later. 

"Draco!" Harry gasped.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Lower your wand, you dick."

Harry blinked, and did as he was told. "The first time you've spoken to me in what twenty years, and you call me a dick?"

"I'm fairly sure we've exchanged terribly awkward greetings and small talk in that time," Malfoy pointed out sarcastically.

"No, that's not... Draco. What. What?"

Malfoy sighed. "I got your letter. What the fuck are you playing at?"

Harry sat back down into his seat. "What letter?" he asked, knowing exactly which letter Malfoy had to mean, even if he had no idea how Malfoy actually got it.

"Oh, right," Malfoy said, mocking thoughtfulness, "I see how you're confused what with all of the zero letters you've sent me apart from that one."

"I haven't sent you any letters."

Malfoy frowned and sat opposite Harry. "This is definitely from you, Potter. Don't even try and deny it. It's your chicken scratch -- it's unmistakable." Malfoy pulled his wand from his pocket and summoned a mug. His mug. Harry's heart clenched. From his other pocket he drew the letter Harry had written and discarded in Paris a week ago.

Harry poured Malfoy some tea. He needed a second to process all of this. Malfoy was actually sitting in front of him. "Oh," he said.

"Oh, this was written by a fake Potter then?" Malfoy asked, faking understanding.

"No, it was written by me," Harry admitted. The envelope and parchment looked worn already -- like the latter had been carefully removed numerous times and re-read over and over again. "But I didn't send it -- "

Malfoy stood up, the chair scraping painfully across the floor. "My mistake," he said, and turned to leave.

"No wait," Harry said, moving to stand in front of the door. Not that Malfoy couldn't Apparate if he wanted to. "I wanted to send it. But I thought it would be futile, so I left it on the table in Paris. The waiter must have...."

"Big words there, Potter. I've just got one question though. What the fuck were you thinking?"

Harry threw up his hands, and stood up from the table. The chair scraped loudly against the tiled floor. "I wasn't thinking, Draco. I just missed you, all right?"

"Missed me?" Malfoy scoffed. "It's been two fucking decades, Potter, and you've barely ever spoken to me since that last day..."

"... in Paris," Harry finished. He shook his head. "I couldn't, Draco, I couldn't. It's too hard. I just wanted to crawl under the covers every time I saw you and never come out. And when I saw at the station..."

"I needed you, Potter!"

There was a moment of silence. "When we broke up... that was it. I couldn't be there and not give it my all. Did you want that? To just be friends?"

"I thought about it," Malfoy admitted. "To begin with. When I was home alone and knew you were, too. I wanted it to be like before, and just walk in your front door."

Harry knew what he meant. Breaking up with Malfoy had left a huge hole in his life that had never completely been filled.

"I... I can't believe you came." Harry ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know how to process this. Who had sent the letter? Did it really matter? Did it mean something could happen with Draco now? No, he was still married. Just because Harry's marriage was well and truly over, didn't mean his was too.

Malfoy expelled a loud breath of air. "I had to. I just... had to."

"But... Astoria..."

Malfoy let a coarse laugh escape his lips. "It's been over for a while. Harry... I've missed you. I never though that there would be another chance for this, though"

Harry swallowed loudly. "I missed you, too. I didn't even..."

"Should we put ourselves through it?" Malfoy interrupted. "Were we worth it?"

Harry closed his eyes. "We were." That he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. "I wouldn't change what happened. My kids are amazing... No. It had to end. But now..."

"Me either, in retrospect. Scorpius is... he's my son," Malfoy said simply.

Harry nodded, pleased that Malfoy understood in some way and that he didn't resent him for trying to have a regular, conventional life.

"What if doesn't work?" Harry asked. "We've changed..."

"Then we've tried. I'm willing to try," Malfoy said. Harry noted that for Malfoy, acquiescing still looked painful. Not everything changed.

"I think I am too."

They gravitated towards each other, until they were inches apart.

"Will it be different?" Harry asked. He could feel Malfoy's breath on his lips. 

"Probably. No potential wives to add to the problems though."

"The main problem then," Harry murmured. His heart was racing. Was this really possible after all these years? It couldn't be happening... Harry was convinced it wasn't. He needed pinching to jolt him from this dream.

"Our children..."

"... won't be impressed," Harry admitted. "But they'll forgive us."

"Do you think?"

"Yes," Harry said, and kissed Malfoy before he could say anything else. It was just like before, but different as well. It felt like the final puzzle piece had clicked into place. 

: :


End file.
